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i^ 



POEMS. 



BY 



JOHN COOPER VAIL. 



NEW YORK: 
PUBLISHED BY A. J. TOWNSEND, 

105 Nassau-street. 



1851. 



i^7 
















POEMS. 



BY 



JOHN COOPER VAIL. 




A. J. TOWNSEND, PRINTER AND PUBLISHER, 

No. 105 Nassau street, corner of Ann. 




1851. 







Entered according to Act of Congress, 

BY JOHN COOPER VAIL, 

In the Clerk's oflace of the District Court for the Southern Distitct of New York 





A 



THIS VOLUME IS RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED 



TO 



aEORaE PAYN QUACKENBOS, ESQ. 



AS A 



SLIGHT TOKEN OF ESTEEM AND RESPECT, 



BT 



THE AUTHOR. 







PREFACE 



The issuing of a volume of original poetry in this utilitarian 
age, and that too without the influence and puffing machinery of some 
popular publishing-house, may seem to betoken, in the author, a de- 
gree of rashness bordering on folly ; and it becomes one who would 
be free from this imputation, to indulge in a few prefatory remarks, 
even at the risk of trespassing upon his readers' patience. Let him 
proceed, then, briefly, with his reasons. And first, truth compels 
him to assign that " passion for writing,"* which seems to prevail as 
generally in our own age, as in that of the immortal Horace, He 
quotes the word passion, but uses it, as regards himself, in no evil 
sense; for, though he has written rhymes from childhood, it has 
been for the purpose, not so much of winning the approbation of the 
public (desirable as he felt it to be,) as of giving expression to that, 
of which his heart and mind and soul were full to overflow. Etna 
sends forth her flames, not that she may become the wonder of the 
Mediterranean mariner, but to give vent to the consuming fire that 
is raging within. 

Of ihe poems here offered to the public, a few have appeared in 
the columns of the late Saturday E^nporimn, the JV*. Y. Literary 
American, the Boston Museum, and other popular papers ; and it 
was the commendations bestowed upon his contributions by the wor- 
thy editors of these sheets that first led the author to think of pub- 
lishing them in a collected form. The interest manifested in the 
matter by many friends, to whom he would here express his acknowl- 
edgements, confirmed him in the idea, and the present volume is the 
result. 

Of the "Miscellaneous Poems," it will be seen that the greater 
part are purely imaginative ; and if it seem to the captious critic 



Cacoethes scribendi. 







VI PREFACE 



that the author has yielded too much to Fancy, he must needs plead 
guilty to the charge, while he can only assign the reason that has 
led him into this excess. To him it is a relief to step from this real 
world of crosses and trials into Imagination's world of bright pic- 
tures and happy scenes — a relief which none can appreciate but those 
who, like him, are wont to steal from this lower world to that ines- 
timable Paradise. The "Ballads and Norseman Legends" are 
founded on those striking passages in history or tradition that have 
arrested the author's attention, and seemed to him to demand " a 
chronicle in rhyme." In the " Songs of Labor " he has addressed 
to the craftsmen, the noble men of America, the greetings of one 
who is proud to call himself their brother. In the " Occasional 
Pieces," the author has for the most part sought to render tribute 
to that faithful friendship, which, happily, the poor man may enjoy 
equally With the rich, and which it is out of the power of fickle for- 
tune to take away. The " Early Efforts " have been inserted here 
at the earnest solicitation of friends, not altogether, it is confessed, 
without doubts as to their general interest and favorable reception. 
To the author, many of them, made vocal in the lispings of infancy, 
are endeared by associations with those once nearest and dearest, 
now in Heaven. 

With these brief remarks the author commends his verses to the 
kind feelings of the peopl.e. If they afford them but a tithe of the 
pleasure in the reading, that they have afforded him in the writing, 
he will be content. 

JOHN COOPER VAIL. 



J^ew Yorki December, 1850. 







CONTENTS. 



PAGE 

THE PHANTOM CITY, 9 

" VOICE OF DEITY, 11 

'• LOST STAR, 13 

'■ REDEMPTION OF LUCIFER, 15 

TOWER OF THOUGHT, 22 

URIEL AND NAAMAH, 24 

THE ANGEL'S BRIDE...... 26 

" UNIVERSE, 28 

JUDGMENT OF THE FOREDOOMED, 30 

THE FIRST AND LAST STAR, 34 

'• DEMON'S MARRIAGE, 35 

GOD, S8 

THE FROZEN SHIP, 39 

SONG OF THE DEMON, .* 41 

GROTTO OF ANTIPAROS, 43 

NAPOLEON'S RETURN TO WATERLOO, 44 

MARY MAGDALEN, 46 

LIFE, 48 

BALBOA, 49 

PARADISE, 50 

THE NIGHT WIND, 52 

HEART'S ECHO, 53 

THE BEARING OF THE CROSS, 54 

SNOW, 58 

THE FLAG OF OUR UNION, 59 

■• MISSISSIPPI, 61 

" TWO RIVERS, 62 

" FOUR WINDS, 63 

'•' POET'S ISLE, 66 

TO MRS. ANNA SALTUS 67 

THE MAIDEN'S PASS, 69 

MARRI'S VIS ION, 74 

ALWILDA, 77 

BRYAN DE GUILBEAR, 80 

FLORA MACDONALD, 82 

THE NORSEMEN'S PRAYER. 85 

•• MERRY DAYS OF ENGLAND 86 







VIU 



CONTENTS 



PAGE 

JOAN OF ARC, 88 

AGRIPPA'S MIRROR, 89 

ROSALINE, 92 

THE SPECTRES' WORSHIP, 95 

'• MECHANICS OF AMERICA, 97 

'•' FARMERS, 98 

'• PRINTERS, 100 

IRON, 



THE BUTCHERS, 

'• CARPENTERS 

'• PLAY OF LIFE, 

" ACTOR'S FATE, 

ALLITERATIVE ACROSTIC, 

HENRY CLAY 

A JENNY LIND SONG, 

THE DEPARTED, 

" ACTOR'S APPEAL, 

THREE PORTRAITS, 

EPITAPH,... 120.127,128. 

THE WASHINGTON MONUMENT, 

MY MOTHER, 

ON JOSEPH THOMAS, Jr., 

TO ELLY, 

ON TPIE DAUGHTER OF JARED WILCOX, 

TO FREDERICK H. WAY, 

CIRCULAR ACROSTIC; 

TO E. L. VANDEROEF, 

MY BROTHER IN HEAVEN, 

TO JOSEPH M. FOLSOM, 

ACROSTIC. 132. 

THE END OF TIME. 

" LOOKING-GLASS OF FATE, 

DAWALAGHERI, 

THE SOUL'S JOURNEY, 

>• FALLEN ONE'S DREAxM, 

LOVE, 

TAMERLANE, 

WOMAN, 

THE MAGDALEN, 

'• BATTLE OF GIBEON, 

" BEGINNING, 

POET'S STAR, 

ADELAIDE, 

FIRE. 

VENICE, 

FAUST,, 

MY SISTER , 



101 
104 
1G6 
108 
113 
114 
115 
116 
117 
118 
119 
129 
121 
122 
123 
124 
125 
126 
127 
128 
129 
131 
153 
135 
136 
138 
139 
140 
141 
142 
143 
144 
146 
147 
149 
150 
151 
152 
154 
156 







:i^ 






POEMS. 



THE PHANTOM CITY. 

By the sparkling brow of glory, where tlie suns of ether rise, 
To mount the blue pavilion of the God-encircled skies. 
On an arch of flasHing rainbows stands a lovely city there, 
Like the cloud-capt fairy castles that our childhood built in air ; 
Angel-builded, golden-gilded, rises each pure vapory tower, 
Gleaming brightly, feathery lightly, under day's eternal dower. 

There are gardens never equalled where the flowers trip the 

breeze. 
When it murmurs music softly to the whispering forest trees ; 
Birds of rare and glorious plumage seem to breathe their lives 

in rhyme. 
Like the melody of angels in the old forgotten time ; 
Eden's thrillino* with the trillino; of their echoes to and fro, 
Like the gleaming, silver streaming, of a river's ceaseless flow. 

There are stars of peerless beauty smiling o'er this lovely zone, 
Equalled by the living splendor of the angels' eyes alone, 
Stationed in their golden orbits by the lofty Artist's skill, 
Where their tide of light flows over, bathing valley, lake, and hill, 
Peering, veering, still appearing with each rainbow-shivered 

gleam, 
Like the surging, pure, emerging, never failing mountain stream. 






(i 

10 T H E P H A N T M C 1 '1' V . 

Trimmed with fringe that circles round them, float the white 

clouds through the air, 
Like the spotless robes of glory that the angels love to wear ; 
While the seraph helmsmen steer these trembling barks to 

every wind, 
With the depth of blue before them and the breath of God 

behind ; 
Pennons trailing, onward sailing, to each pure enchanted isle, 
Mkage fleeting from the meeting, like the haunted desert's 

smile. 

There are architects and artists, angel ones of every trade, 
Oft they build the fog-like towers that in crumbling vapors fade, 
Fade to rise in triple splendor, for each lovely plan is sought, 
Till they gleam in heaven's halo like the burning sphere of 

thought ; 
Beauty blending, thus ascending, with no fault that art can 

trace. 
Rocking, shivering, with the quivering of hosannas to their base. 

There the fountains ripple music from each crystal mountain 

steep, 
Like the sweet and soothins: numbers that can lull the soul to 

sleep ; 
There from Temen's* unknown centre, told in chronicles we 

laud. 
First beat the heart of Ether through the mighty pulse of God, 
When his gushing soul fell rushing down the pathless depths 

of night, 
Foam-like, bathing, with its swathing, all the universe in light. 



% . 

-7/^ 



* " And God came from Temen, and the Holy One from Mount 
Paran. Selah !" 




:^ 



.V^) 




THE VOICE OF DEITY 




11 



THE VOICE OF DEITY. 

There was darkness all supernal, 

And the Deity eternal 
On the wilderness of waters moved his spirit to and fro ; 

And the waves, to silence moulded. 

Lay like Death's broad pinions folded. 
As they clasped his fleeting shadow in their awful depths below. 
The lifeless waves in ocean graves could feel it come and go. 

And the universe, aU lonely. 

Held a single tenant only, 
Like one vast mausoleum where Infinity might sleep ; 

And the plumes of night were waving 

O'er his lofty spirit, laving. 
Like sad tho' solemn mourners, in the chambers of the deep — 
A phantom train that knew not pain, and yet they seemed to 
weep. 

In lofty rank and column. 

Looming spectral, still and solemn, 
Stood stars by fate half finished from the elements of space. 

Dark warriors preparing. 

Each the future conflict daring. 
To war till time grew weary in the mighty battle place. 
Light's fitful gleams like morning dreams half stole upon each 
face. 



And a voice fell loud and thrilling. 
Every rood of darkness filling, 
" Let thtre be Light forever j^'' and each system echoed " Light ^^^ 



m. 





12 



THE VOICE OF DEITY. 



With its spirit footsteps fleeting, 

Every truant orbit meeting, 
Till star on star awakened from the weary reign of night, 
And then the air felt everywhere the weight of angels bright. 

As a poet's thoughts ideal 

Rose Lyra's orb astraeal, 
A home for bright-browed angels where glory never dies ; 

A sphere with light o'erflowing. 

Where the flowers need no sowing. 
For Edens are but deserts in this jewel of the skies. 
Its glories things that angel wings might waft from Paradise. 

And like day to twilight turning. 

In his golden armor burning. 
Reposed the flashing spirit of the giant Aldobran ; 

While weaving ways elysian 

In the distant zone of vision, 
Stood Sirius, a model of the lofty artist's plan ; 
His spangled veins seemed golden chains to bind creation's span. 




In triple brilliance bounded. 

By an angel host surrounded. 
Rose seven glorious systems to join creation's throng, 

Like sisters oft conversing, 

Light's brilliant tale rehearsing ; 
Grod wrought while angels rested where the Pleiades belong 
Peerless seven, waking heaven with the harmony of song 



o5 




And fair Cygne's pauseless numbers 
Woke each tribute orbit's slumbers, 
On Nature's throbbing bosom lay each blushing asteroid ; 
And these silver-clad transgressors 
Shone like bashful intercessors, 






THELOSTSTAR. 13 

Space seemed an endless garden, only flowers in the void : 
Without control the poet's soul that garden hath enjoyed. 

And the sky lay vast and boundless, 

Like an ocean blue and soundless, 
Each sun a king of glory with his embassies 'abroad ; 

And the echo never ending. 

Seems in triumph still ascending, 
While science often whispers, " Lo ! the thrilling voice of God /" 
And like a low sweet vesper every whisper echoes " God /" 



THE LOST STAR.* 

From the mighty wilds of ether seven glorious systems sprung. 

Never in the blue dominions brighter sister orbits clung ; 

All around them and above them watched the licensed ones 

of heaven, 
No archangel ever guarded glories like the Pleiads seven. 

And their golden banners, throwing rays of living light afar. 
Seemed like streams of brightness flowing onward to each tri- 
bute star. 
Save a few dissolved by distance from the system's brilliant core, 
Which flew on to some fair Eden to remain forever more. 



* It is supposed that there were originally seven stars in the com- 
bination of the Pleiades, and that one of them vanished from space 
some time after the Christian era. The destruction of a sun so glo- 
rious as the Pleiad, consigning the numerous planets to which it 
gave light and heat to eternal darkness, is too awful for the ima- 
gination to ponder on. Byron's " Dream of Darkness" can give us 
only a slight idea of the unutterable cahimity that consigned a whole 
solar system to a doom fearful as the wisdom of the Deity is infinite. 







14 THELOSTSTAR. 

And the seraphs poised their pinions as they clove the sea of 
blue, 

Gazing on the bright dominions Grod's unequalled artists drew, 

Wondering, fearing, stUl rejoicing as each world rolled by sub- 
lime, 

Seven glorious spheres enhsted 'neath the sway of wizard time. 

Chrysalis of fair entrancement nothing thought of half so fair, 

Nothing builded by enchantment with the Pleiads could compare ; 

Every rood in space an Eden, every wind brought forth a flower, 

Time lay bound in silken bondage, for an age was but an hour. 

mmm 

Cities sprang to quick existence, shadowy yet more than fair. 

Lofty watchers in the distance saw them oft dissolve in air ; 
'Twas a spell of these bright regions every angel artist knew. 
Like a breath on polished mirror there a fairer city grew. 

Flowers shed their pure caresses blooming never to decay. 
Though the wind that kissed their tresses bore their incense 

half away : 
Lake and sea and flowing river echoed golden waves along, 
While each hill and dale and valley breathed the minstrel an- 
gel's song. 

In fate's dark and silent pages known to One and One alone. 
Where the war of bygone ages shows a star-deserted throne. 
There an autograph appeareth wet with one immortal tear, 
In a trembling hand 'tis written, here fell heaveii's brightest 
sphere. 

When its last faint spark did quiver we of earth can never 

know. 
Then the queen of light forever lost a brilliant from her brow ; 
Could not sister plead for sister doomed for any, every crime ? 
Six fair Pleiads yet are rolling, one alone has passed from time. 




:zs 






THE REDE INI PTION OF LUCIFER. 15 

Like a robe of darkness swinging o'er a mighty phantom's bier, 
To despair and blackness clinging, stagnant, floats the fallen 

sphere ; 
And when eve is bearing onward to the midnight's solemn 

kneU, 
Science can mark out the orbit whence the seventh Pleiad feU. 



THE REDEMPTION OF LUCIFER: 

A MYSTERY. 
PRELUDE. 

Tune was no more, day had no dawn, 

Eternity alone reigned on, 
The universe had ceased to be, 
Save as a wild vast mystery, ' 
A page in fate's strange history, 

Elohim wrote upon. 

All ether seemed an ocean dark. 
Each voiceless world, a shattered bark, 

At weary anchor lay. 
Though some, by dread convulsion wide, 
"Were thrown together on the tide ; 
Together crumbled side by side, 

All silently away. 

* The author m\ist apologize to our learned Theologians for de- 
scribing the redemption of a being who has always been portrayed 
as unredeemable. It is a poem purely imaginary, in which the fer- 
tile mind has a princely field to revel. According to Holy Writ, 
there is a being known as Lucifer given to everlasting fire ; but it 
may be a figure of speech, just as it was said that " the smoke of So- 
dom and Gomorrah was to ascend forever and ever" (certainly figur- 
ative). " The well of mercy is never dry." 






16 



'.% 



T HE R E D E ^I P T I N OF LUCIFER 



And space was peopled with strange things ; 
They wore not angel forms nor wings ; 

Still as the stagnant wind 
They stood apart with folded hands, 
Or glided over former strands ; 
Sometimes they sought amid the sands 

For something they would find. 

Hushed was the dark volcano's roar, 
The waves had ceased to beat the shore, 

As when the ocean swells ; 
Pale lights would from its bosom gleam, 
Like ghostly faces in a dream. 
As phosphorescent fires beam. 

Where darkness only dwells. 

A shoreless void, a soundless sky. 
Where clouds of darkness hovered by 

With pinions ever free ; 
As, when the gates of night unbar, 
Their sable folds bound every star, 
That stagnant loomed through space afar. 

Like wrecks upon a sea. 

The stars had faded one by one, 
Each planet, asteroid, and sun. 

That form a system vast. 
Till on its solitary throne. 
An orbit trembled all alone, 
A single seed that light had sown 

In countless ages past. 

It wheeled alone with pallid hue, 
And rays that faint and fainter grew. 
Then vanished — ^Nature slept. 





THE REDEMPTION OF LUCIFER. 17 

The warrioi- lay upon liis bier, 
None lived to shed a kindly tear, 
And waves of darkness bore the sphere 
That had for myriads wept. 

It was a world of glory rare, 

None brighter clove the fields of air ; 

Built by celestial trains. 

It wore great Lyra's lofty plan, 

The burning bust of Aldobran, 

And Cygne's silver surges ran 

Through all its countless veins. 

mmm mmm 

Upon a rock, whose solid base 

Had mocked the elements of space. 

A mighty being stood ; 
He gazed upon the sea of night. 
Where worlds had bathed in floods of light — 
No mourner shed a pinion bright 

O'er nature's widowhood. 

The past led forth its marshalled hosts, 
Of spectres dim and solemn ghosts. 

All pals and bright by turns ; 
A centre their resemblance sought. 
And to the mirror of his thought 
Each phantom reminiscence brought. 

As circled Saturn burns. 

The tide of fate far backward rolled, 

Eternal chronicles untold. 

Like shadows, seemed to rise ; 

Till he in heaven stood again. 

The leader of Eloliim's train ; 

A being pure from every stain, 

He walked in Paradise. 
2 



-"t 





~C^'^^ 



1 S T i i E R E D E :^.I P T I N OF LUCIFER. 

As chosen one, his trumpet's sound 
Awoke the depths of space profound, 

And shook each crystal tower ; 
As chosen one, his sword of jBame 
Was stamped with God''s most holy name,* 
And angels wondered at the fame 

Of Lucifer's great power. 

The bnght scene changed : — ambition's theme 
Came o'er his spirit like a dream, 

And thought with thought dissolved : 
^' Shall He or I the vassal be ? 
I am immortal, fearless, free — 
Now, by His great eternity, 

To reign I am resolved !" 

He failed. . His marshalled legions staunch 
Fell, like the wheeling avalanche. 

Headlong, through dai'kness down ; 
And surging thunders seemed to knell 
" Thine is the destiny of iJe/Z," 
As he, through desert blackness fell. 

Beneath Elohim's frown. 




THE PAST, PRESENT, AND FUTURE. 

Like a mirage, glorious, golden, rose a city on his viow. 
Yet transparent as the vapor from the ocean's bosom drew, 
For the pale, cold, stars beyond it seemed to shimmer through 
and throuorh. 



* According to some of the Hebrew writers, Jah is the most holy 
name of God, and when it is spoken the very angels in heaven tremble. 



(^. 






=1^ 



THE REDEMPTION OF LUCIFER. 19 

And it seemed a briglit chimera, fairest of immortal things, 
Sleeping calmly in the distance as it rocked on angel wings ; 
Like a thought the poet's fancy from the heart of Eden brings. 

And each surging wave of darkness felt its Hving presence now ; 
AU that laved its ciystal basis to its glory seemed to bow, 
I^'or each retreating billow wore a rainbow on its brow. 

There were faces all familiar in the golden times long past ; 
Once he caught the pale reflection of Elohim's lofty cast. 
And he bowed, as bows the forest to the wild tornado's blast. 

He saw the trees and flowers he had wandered oft among ; 
He heard each harp, though faintly, like a distant echo rung ; 
There was oTie he well remembered, with its silken cords un- 
strung. 

Louder than those faint hosannas seemed a voice of praise 

alone — 
And he saw a white winged angel bending nearest to the throne. 
And his heart's core strangely quivered, for that bright form 

was his own. 

But the fair and lovely pageant seemed a fainter hue to wear, 
As if each crystal castle were dissolving in the air, 
Till the leaden stars were gazing alone on his despair. 

For this bright and lovely city to his vision seemed to fade. 
As a summer cloud will shiver, by a breath of wind unmade ; 
And he gazed as on Sahara, by the burning sand betrayed. 

Then the darkness seemed to crumble as he grasped it in his 

hands — 
Crumble, like the foaming billow as it smites upon the sands, 
When the sea-tide wheels it forward with the strength of iron 

bands. 







20 



THE REDEMPTION OF L U CI F E U . 



For before liiin in its terror shone the fallen angel's doom, 
A sea of molten lava on th' horizon's rim of gloom, 
Where the burning billows revelled in a ficiy Maebtroom. 

There were beings strange and varied, gathered from each 

faded world. 
In a foam of liquid sulphur round the boiling vortex hurled, 
Like a Sodom ever burning, 'neath the flag of wrath unfurled. 

And some with forms like angels swam the awful, soundless, 

tide, 
Beings from those mighty systems that this universe divide, 
And all Earth's unbelievers in the Holy Crucified. 

There were beings chained in horror from the bui-ning planet 

Mars ; 
Some from distant pale Uranus that our solar system bars ; 
And others more than mortal from the glorious fixed stars. 

Far above this zone of torment an eternal blackness roUcd, 
Like a pall o'er living corpses, swept its avalanchine fold. 
While for the dead imdying its heart of thunder tolled. 

Still he knew that all were shriven, and his fate the darker 

seemed, 
When the lake of lava vanished like a thought that he had 

dreamed. 
And he, the proud archangel, was the only unredeemed. 

Then an orb of spotless beauty shone upon the soundless void. 
As pure as ever poet in his wildest dream enjoyed, 
Gleammg in modest glory like a Washing asteroid. 

On its bosom Asia nestled with its wealth of tropic flowers ; 
There smiling Eden centered with its golden girdled hours, 
While the weary angels rested in its dewy spangled bowers. 








-3^ , 



THE REDEMPTION OF LUCIFER. 21 

Aiid bright and faithful warders watched this gem of countless 

price, 
Rose Ararat beyond it with its lofty dome of ice, 
Which the cold north wind had frozen in each curious device. 

He saw the bright Euphrates throw its sUver waves apart, 
Like the rock of Horeb gushing by the prophet's holy art, 
Or the poet's lofty rhythm as it ripples from the heart. 

Thus in fate's eternal drama he saw each act rehearse, 
Forced to play the fearful tempter by Elohim's awful curse, 
While each star, and sun, and system, clove the boundless 
universe. 

Pa.ss?d the mighty panorama, and his fettered soul was free, 
On the wUd rock marked by ages bent the fallen angel's knee, 
And a prayer roUed up the darkness to the throne of Deity. 

With no avalanche to crush it as it winged its upward flight, 
Rose that prayer, arrayed in sorrow, yet so beautiful and 

bright. 
That it seemed Grod's fairest jewel when it reached the halls of 

Hght. 

But the highest hosts of heaven are the only ones that dare 
To breathe the import only of that long forbidden prayer. 
That shall make the lost archangel his prmieval glory wear. 

As the burning bush on Sinai did the shepherd seer surprise. 
All shall see the star of mercy on the wings of prayer arise. 
To guide the last forgiven to the gates of Paradise. 







U*j' 



l^ 



Jt—- 



22 



'r \v !•: u v t 1 1 o u c 1 1 -r . 






TOWER OF THOUGHT. 

Every soul that flics to earth 

Leaves a niort2:a«};e with its God ; 
Briijlitost treasure lent at birth, 

Where's the pntli tliat ye liave trod ? 
LilvO the wind that whispers by, 

]5reathing shadowh\^s above, 
Fell ye from the lofty sky, 

Blessed boon of Heaven's love ? 

We would ask a revelation, 

(Thoui^ht is mighty in request,) 
Why fair Eden's brip;ht creation 

Withered wIumi it scarce had blest. 
Had it mA one true defender 

In the court of heaven cast ? 
There the sun first threw his splendor, 

G olden dreams of ages past. 

Was our wiu'ld an orb of night, 

Swinging t("> nud fro in nir. 
Or a sphere of Ufe and light. 

Pure as God W'ho made it fair ? 
Haply bemgs rich hi glory 

On it died, as fleets a cloud ; 
If so, sadness crowns the story — 

We are dwellinLi; o'er their shroud. 



[^ 



Q 



Worlds on worlds through space are rolling ; 
Here a system's just begiui ; 





TOWER OF THOUGHT. 




23 



There the knell of time is tolling, 
For a system's course is run ; 

Like a field that's strewn with flowers. 
Lies the garden of the sky, 

Lovely plants bloom fewest hours — 
Why ? the fairest soonest die. 

In the living blue of heaven 

Hangs the golden crown of night ; 
Countless spheres from darkness riven, 

Bathing in a sea of light ; 
Jewels set in bright creation, 

By the lofty Artist's code. 
Priceless gems of matchless station. 

Flashing round the throne of God. 

Bound their crystal orbits turning, 

Beacon lights of wizard time. 
Like eternal censers burning, 

Incense to their God sublime. 
In the heart of ether beatin";. 

Breathing in its lucid core. 
Spheres like voices oft repeating 

Glory now and evermore. 

And the Borealis bending 

Round the North Zone's frozen spars, 
Must be anfi-els there descendino; 

From this throne of brilliant stars. 
Science scouts the dream I treasure ; 

Dearest friends are forced to part, 
Yet a thought of real pleasure 

Often cheers a lonely heart. 





(g^ — ^ 

24 U R I E L A N D N A A M A H . 



Death is dark, the future shrouded, 

Every soul must win its prize ; 
And these golden thoughts uncloudedj 

Are not blanks in Paradise ; 
When the mould of life is broken, 

In which Gcd his shadow cast. 
Then the soul, His lofty token, 

Will review the truth at last. 



UEIEL AND NAAMAH.* 

From the bright and blest ideal of earth's lono- forgotten 

times, 
Let the poet cull each fiower for the garland of his rhymes ; 
Let his fancy drain the goblet from the springs of sacred land. 
Pure as water to the Arab, when it bubbles throuo-h the sand : 
For these dreams, so like the real, will around our fancies cling, 
TiU we pause and Ksten often for the passing seraph's wing. 

The stars hung over Asia, land of song and poet's pride ; 
Space seemed one Antiparos, with its gems strewed far and 

wide ; 

Golden censers burning incense on the youthful brow of time, 

Like altar-stones of glory to the unseen Grod sublime ; 

For our world of youth and beauty did its offerings combine. 

And Eden seemed rebuilded through the land of Palestine. 



* This poem is founded on the passage of Scripture, " And the 
sons of God intermarried with the daughters of men, and had chil- 
dren by them : the same were mighty men, and men of renown." 
"The AugeVs Bride" maybe considered as a sequel to this poem, 
after the fickle Uriel has forsaken Naamah for tlie more beautiful 
Adah. 









URIEL AND NAASIAH 



Throuo-li a valley aiio;el-o;uarded Pison's flashino; waters rollsd : 
On its banks the flowers mingled with Havillah's sand of gold. 
There a trysting maiden wandered, with hsr cheek bedewed 

with tears, 
Though her brow seemed pure and spotless as the snow of after 

years. 
Silence reigned above, around her, save the river's dashing 

spray. 
When she knelt among the flowers, with a heavy heart, to pray. 

Oh, bright and lofty being, is fair Adah's heart more true 
Than Naamah's, now forsaken, though it only beats for you : 
Has she a love more truthful ? has she a brow more fair 
Than mine, to match the glory of the pearls the angels wear r 
Oh, Uriel, my husband, to thy earthly bride prove kind. 
Let me see thy white wings glisten as they quiver down the 
wind ! 

Nought awoke the solemn stillness when the maiden ceased 

her prayer. 
And she rose from supplication with a soul of dark despair. 
She saw tihe golden river as it rippled by her feet. 
And its bosom seemed to woo her to a sure and calm retreat : 
Game a sound of rushing waters — Adah had no rival then — 
For the spirit of Naamah had returned on high again. 

That night went forth a fiat with the autograph of God, 
To our world a judgment fearful, like a whirlwind sown abroad ; 
That the beacon star of mercy should cease awhile to burn. 
When the angel hosts' departed, to never more return ; 
But oft a ray of glory from its golden breast would shine. 
Breathing love and mercy ever through our chronicles divine. 




VJ') 



, . ^' „. ./ , 



26 theangel'sbrid 



THE ANGEL'S BRIDE. 

The moon arose on Syiia so beautiful and fair, 

It seemed a world space long had sought to find its eyry there ; 

And voiceless messengers of Light were gazing far above. 

To watch the blushing queen of night rehearse her tale of love ; 

As 88olian harpstrings quiver when the unseen angel plays, 

O'er land and leaping river fell the music of her rays. 

nnnn 

Through a wilderness of flowers the bright Euphrates stole, 

As a poet's thoughts will wander through the fountains of the 

soul, 
While f 0111 the distant mountains the songs of shepherds fell 
Like melody, low rolling fiom the lute of Israfel ;^ 
And the silver stars seemed weeping, v/hile a host of angels hid, 
Caught the tears of light that trembled from each lovely watch- 
er's lid. 

Far down the vale of Enocli roared the forge of Tubal-Cain — 
Like some genii's dark battalion rose its smoke wreaths o'er 

the plain ; 
And the sparks seemed fitful torches leading ghostly armies 

high, 
Like the race of fallen Eblis mounting upward to the sky ; 
Till the darkest phantoms vanished in the mighty vault of blue, 
And the cedars of Mount Ararat seemed wavini^; them adieu. 



'Twas a world of youth and beauty ; there was everything to 

charm ; 
The kisses of the Deity were still upon it warm ; 

* The AiiQ-cl of Melody. — Koran. 











» theangel'sbride. 21 

There were beings more than lovely whom the poet's thoughts 

recall, 
But the pure and gentle Adah was the fairest of them all ; 
For her form was like a model from the lofty Sculptor's art, 
And the living marble quivered with the pulses of a heart. 

Like the belt of silver Saturn rose an ansjel host revealed. 
Till the world, by light imprisoned, in a chain of glory wheeled ; 
And where ether sparkled brightest in the brilliant zone above, 
Watched the fair and gentle Adah for the angel of her love : 
While on her golden tresses the breathing night winds died. 
And their spirits kindly hovered near the angel's trysting bride. 

Now Uriel's bright pinions threw their glowing shadows forth. 
As the Borealis flashes from the icebergs of the north ; 
For his wings, though quickly cleaving, left their light in crys- 
tal showers. 
As the steps of lovely Adah left their imprints over flowers ; 
Like stars from ether riven, when their rays still linger far, 
And we see the world no longer, but the spirit of the star. 

Back she flung her flowing tresses from her pure and spotless 

brow. 
And they seemed like banners waving from a field of driven 

snow; 
While the sky, though bright, grew brighter as when a rainbow 

bends. 
For Uriel, Grod's fairest, to his trysting bride descends. 
Did the lofty Artist tremble on his everlasting throne. 
When the love of gentle Adah drew his brightest angel down ? 

Let the heart be still and voiceless; let the prophet's holy 

tono-uc 
Breathe of days and nights of glory that around this orbit hung ; 



%■ 




28 T H E U >" I V E R S E 



Let the poet's fancy linger over chronicles divine, 
Till the wand imagination brings the jewel from the mine ; 
Then, like the sun of morning, rising in his robes of gold, 
Will the child of sono; unfearincr rear the Paradise of old. 




THE UNIVERSE. 

Brilliant watchers over space, 

Let your loud hosannas quiver ; 
Veins of God in which we trace 

Light and life in Him forever. 
Pulses beating all uncertain. 

Often broken, never dim ; 
God could hano; no brio-hter curtain 

'Tween our lowly world and Him. 

Mercury in glories beaming, 

Fostered near the core of light ; 
Could we see such glories, dreaming, 

We would wish it ever night. 
There 'tis Eden never ending ; 

When night's banners are unrolled, 
Then a briUiant glow ascending. 

Bathes its brow with molten gold. 

Venus flashing silver pinions. 
Woven with her golden bars, 

Where the angels hold dominions 
Fairer than her sister stars. 





■^• 



vf= 



THE UNIVERSE 




29 



Cliildliood's dream of lovely hours, 

Fairy tales can lend a gem, 
Ne'er half formed this sphere of flowers 

Floating round Grod's diadem. 

And the sea of azure floweth 

Where His sphere of love doth start ; 
No fair world that science knoweth 

Beateth nearer to His heart. 
Could that heart yield each a token, 

Give a glorious son to all, 
Till the last heart-string was broken, 

And the universe a pall ? 

Round the days of olden story 

Rainbow thought will ever cling, 
When each silver cloud in glory 

Seemed to trip the angel's wing ; 
When the Artist's pencil faltered 

Ere the last bright touch was given. 
For a sphere so fair, unaltered, 

Might at last win all from heaven. 

Stars, like martialled hosts, are wheeling 

In the lofty ranks of time ; 
And their footsteps fall revealing 

Measured pauses all sublime ; 
And the rays of light empanneled 

Round each system's banner true, 
Forms one chrysolite enamelled, 

Set in dyes of living blue. 

Far beyond each glorious circle 
Thought unfurls its pennons free ; 



n^ 







30 



judg:,ient of the foredoojNied 

Where the last lone orbits sparkle 

O'er the dark eternity, 
Where the mine of blackness holdeth 

Treasures in its inmost core, 
Science oft with joy beholdeth. 

Grod doth own one jewel more. 

Could thought scale this vast enclosure, 

Where immortal shadows sleep, 
Space might yield a bright disclosure, • 

From the towers of the deep ; 
Systems wrought to fair existence 

By the same great Artist's hand ; 
One God ruling fields of distance 

Griant thought has never spanned 



JUDGMENT OF THE FOREDOOMED.* 

^^ 'Twas whispered in heaven, 'twas echoed in hell," 
To banished archangels the awful word fell ; 
Like thunder low rolling, terrific to hear. 
Time's fearful bell tolling a world to its bier ; 



* It is believed by some that the Deity, in the councils of Eternity, 
doomed certain members of our race to damnation, ages before their 
birth. The author trusts that he has more of the milk of human 
kindness in him than to deem such an act possible on the part of 
any being that has ever existed, even the most depraved. Reason 
must be entirely wanting to him who could conceive such a doctrine 
as Predestination; but when it is connected with our Father in 
Heaven, want of reason becomes arrant blasphemy. It would make 
the Supreme Ruler a Nero in cruelty, instead of a God of Love. 



:s 





J U D G il E N T OF THE FOREDOOMED. 31 

And the blackness of darkness liung over all space, 
That the smile of Gods msrcj could only efface ; 
And in lielPs mighty prisons that darkness doth quiver. 
For the smoke of their torment ascendeth forever. 

An earthquake is crashing earth's pillars below, 
A hurricane's dashing the burthen of woe. 
And phantoms gigantic are stalking through air, 
To keep from ascending the mortal's last prayer ; 
In agony dying, a curse their farewell. 
While laughter is ringing the arches of hell ; 
Let the angel of wrath the last vial outpour, 
Time's kingdom hath withered — he reigneth no more. 

Gome gather together, from land and from sea. 
The king and the beggar, the bond and the free. 
From the sepulchre ghastly and pale ye must tread. 
For the last trump hath sounded to waken the dead. 
Gome forth from the shroud, ye who sleep in the graves ! 
Gome forth ye who perished on ocean's dark waves ! 
From your cerements bursting, come forth to be tried, 
In horror despairing, the same as ye died ! 

The Moslems, the Christians, the blaspheming J ews, 
All nations and ages must gather their crews ; 
And those who for centuries rotted away, 
Must come in the likeness first doomed to decay ; 
The warrior, statesman, the prophet, and priest, 
The harlot of Egypt, the mark of the beast. 
The seal of the demon, the Judas in heart, 
In the lake of bitumen allotted a part. 

The inquisitor's panel, the council of ten, 
To judgment, not judging, must gather again. 







32 JUDGMENT OF THE F R E D INI E D . 

Their doom's everlasting, Grocl's awful decree, 

Hall's thraldom for ever their auto da fe! 

For Sodom, Gomorrah, and Venice in sin, 

The demons are howlinor their work to begin ; 

And the Brido-e of Sis-hs' duns-eons in Venice are heaven. 

Compared to hell's dungeons for earth's unforgiven ! 

The dark ages render their millions undone, 

The knights of the Crusades, the swarms of the Hun ; 

From the shores of the Baltic to Syria's plain, 

They marshail their armies in order again : 

And Attila, " Grod's scourge," by the Roman doth stand. 

For vengeance is past, and he stayeth his hand. 

All fearful, all watching one banner that sheens 

In the wild waste of distance — the great Nazarine's ! 

From swart Hindostan, where the Granges doth leap, 
Come thousands on thousands consigned to the deep, 
The sacrificed infants whom mothers did slay. 
The snake of the jungle less cruel than they. 
From New Zealand's isle come the demons of earth. 
Foredoomed by Grod's mandate, long prior to birth, 
Wildly shrieking for mercy, when mercy is past — 
'Tis demons tormenting their brothers at last. 

From the tomb of the iceberg they gather once more, 
For lio'htnino-s have scorched it and shivered its core ; 
Like -petrified marble, they creep from its breast, 
To be doomed in the mandate along with the rest ; 
And their hearts are as cold as the fingers of death. 
Though the form that is frozen gives token of breath, 
For the soul dieth not, and it wakens again. 
To be chained in the dungeons of holrror and pain. 





^= 




JUDGMENT OF THE FOREDOOMED. 33 

Where the Andes are hurling their thunder-trains forth ; 
Where the Maelstrom is whirling the spoil of the North ; 
Where the snow steppe of Russia lies barren and cold ; 
Where the vale of Angola sleeps spangled with gold ; 
Where the North Cape is daring the fiend of the storm ; 
Where the Greyshers of Hecla with bitumen warm ; 
Where the tombs of the Pharaohs are standing sublime ; 
Proud children of ages, they perish with time : 

Like red lightning, hissing, in darkness and gloom, 
Like an earthquake that buildeth for cities a tomb, 
Like a volcano groaning, yet fearful and low, 
Like a comet that shatters an orb at a blow. 
Like the simoom that steals o'er Sahara's dark sand, 
Like the plague-spot of Egypt that withers the land, 
Like the archangel's falling on hell's cursed shore, 
Fell the doom of the judgment, forever and more. 

'Tis finished ! the banner of Edom unfurled. 

Holds forever in bondage the corse of the world. 

And the phantoms of midnight are bearing the pall, 

Dark watchers eternal they reign in its fall. 

The oceans lie torpid like monsters asleep, 

For darkness hangs over the face of the deep ; 

And the kings of eternity spake as it fell : — 

" Thereh an un-peo;pled earth, but an o^er-j)eopled Hell '" 






34 THE FIRST AND LAST STAR, 



THE FIRST AND LAST STAR.* 

In the miglity syllogism, 

Where gloi-y's core revolves, 
There's a vast infinite prism 

Where the spirit God dissolves ; 
Where each chaotic fossil 

Built the birthright star of time, 
In astraeal dies colossal, 

Thus to mirror Grod sublime : 
In the heart of space eternal. 

Ebon darkness' reign to sever, 
Wheeled the first-born star diurnal, 

Linked with God and God forever. 

Like an altar-stone gigantic 

Of the lost pre- Adamites, 
As Egyptian craft romantic 

Built the pyramidal heights. 
Each ray of brightness single 

Stood in rainbow hues revealed. 
As the sun's bright glories mingle 

Round one chrysolite congealed ; 



* It is supposed by astronomers that some systems of stars were 
called into being long before others. The first and most glorious is 
called the Astroial System. It is upon this theory that the above 
poem is based. 

I believe it is generally agreed that nothing in space has yet ar- 
rived at perfection. If the chronology of our most learned men be 
true, a few thousand years ago all space was an ocean of impenetra- 
ble darkness. Still there was water and earth; for we read in the 
second verse of the Bible that the Spirit of God " moved upon the 
face of the waters." These elements may have belonged to a pri- 
meval univei'se less glorious than ours, when air and fire Avere added 
by the infinite wisdom of the All-powerful Architect. 




C 





g: 



THE demon's marriage 



35 




Flashing o'er the hounds of distance, 
As light's ceaseless footsteps quiver, 

TiU they sank to non-existence, 
Linked with God and God forever. 

Thus ether's core rekindled 

Threw its beacon lights afar, 
Till in distance vast they dwindled 

Round the last lone solemn star. 
The only world that marches 

With no echo to its tread. 
For the blue sky never arches 

O'er the systems of the dead. 
In that dark and boundless ocean 

Floweth light's resplendent river. 
As on earth the heart's last motion 

Links the soul with God forever. 



THE DEMON'S MARRIAGE. 

A POEM SUGGESTED BY READING DANTE's " INFERNO." 



3* 



Lethe, dark Lethe, thou hell-born river. 
Mantle the deed in thy breast forever ! 
Fbrevtr — a cycle of years unknown ; 
A term the astrologer ne'er can con ! 
Forever — a dream that sleeps in the past ! 
ForevAr — a shroud o'er eternity cast ! 
There was joy in hell on a festive day. 
For a she fiend gave her vile heart away ! 






36 



THE demon's marriage 




A demon of ton and of great estate, 
Who was known to all as the grand and great ; 
For her palace was built of sculls unknown — 
Some died by the blast of the fell simoom ; 
Some bleached for years in the ocean dark, 
The withered prey of the famished shark, 
Till an earthquake's billows threw them on 
The bitumen banks of Phlegethon. 

And the wine-cup passes in mirth quite free — 
The liquor is brewed from the Upas tree, 
With the dew of ivy and churchyard yews, 
And the froth is the foam of plague-smit Jews. 
And the cups are formed of the mother's gold, 
Who her daughter's honor forever sold : 
And they fill them high, for they all begin 
To drink to the bride and the bridegroom's kin. 

And the bride was the fairest fiend of all ; 
In power she ruled over great and small. 
Now a wreath of flame through her tresses curled, 
And her heritage was a foredoomed world ; 
And she fanned herself with a vampire's wing. 
That drank the blood of an Egypt king ; 
And she wore a plume like the blackened sky, 
When a gala day buried Pompeii. 

Now her Demon lord takes her taloned hand. 
And she plights her troth 'fore the goodly band ; 
And the goblin priest does his prayers unfold, 
From a book that tells how heaven is sold ; 
And he gives the ring to the youthful bride, 
('Twas cut from the rib of a parricide) ; 
And the bridegroom fiend paj^s a princely fee — 
'Tis a myriad souls for eternity. 






(^ 




1'HE demon's JNIARRIAGE. 



37 



Now they all stand up in goodly array. 
And the minstrels their wild music play ; 
Some beating sculls form a dread tattoo, 
Some grind their jaws in the fearful crew, 
Some rattle chains, while the arch-fiend's claw 
Kends the shrieking corse of an Esquimaux, 
A famished wretch, whom a wehr-wolf tore, 
On the ice-bound coast of Labrador. 

The dance is o'er, but they howl again, 
For they gamble now for the souls of men. 
With the dice they cut from a gambler's heart, 
By the fearful skill of a Demon's art. 
And whether the spots show high or low, 
A soul is doomed to eternal woe ; ^ 

The fiends all laugh at the awful spell 
That surely wins for the bank of hell. 

There's a goodly feast in the scull-built hall. 
An epicure ne'er could the dishes call. 
There were spotted snakes from Numidia's sand. 
And centipedes brought from a torrid land; 
With the wild mandrake and the Upas hoar. 
From the plague-sniit soil of Jessicore ;* 
And tlicy roast them rare on the iron bars. 
That inquisitors used in the holy wars. 

15ut the feast is past in the skull-built dome, 
Kach fiend must repair to his dungeon home, 
To obey the will of the king of hell, 
And invent new tortures for those who fell: 



• The Cholera originated in Jessicore, India. 



C 




--1 



38 



GOD 



And the unredeemed will f6r mercy cry, 
Wliile the fiends exult in their agony — 
Forever doomed under Satan's nod, 
The cursed of earth, and the damned of God ! 



7^ 



GOD. 



" I am that I am !" said the artist, God !* 
As he through the towers of darkness trod. 
" One vassal yields to my endless might. 
And a willino!; slave is the monarch Night 
I spanned the bounds of his ebon throne, 
A shapeless void, where no beacon shone ; 
But he felt, when my footfalls echoed by. 
That a God was there who could never die. 

" Empyreal gleams clove his kingdom dark, 
Like rays from the wings of an Hierarch, 
For the foam of light bathed my spirit fair. 
The garment I in my glory wear, 
And its flashing rays threw their dyes apart. 
Until ether beat with my single heart. 
Then the ceaseless glow of its pausclcss bars 
Woke the pulse of light in the pale fixed stars. 



* The first line of this Poem is taken almost -without change from 
Holy Writ. It contains a volume of meaning, sublimity, and power, 
which the author by no means claims us original. It is the fiat of 
the Eternal, delivered by the inspired writer. 



a- 





THEFROZENSHIP. 39 

" I am that I am !'■' said the artist, God ; 
" I wove the hue of the earth's dark sod ; 
Over valleys fair, over mountain chains, 
Whose barren peaks greet my thunder trains, 
I reign alone, and my might dissolves 
Through every world that in space revolves ; 
And brighter far — on an unknown shore, 
I dwell in glory forever more," 



THE FROZEN SHIP.* 

The northern winds were hushed to sleep 

Beneath an Arctic sky ; 
The sluggard pulses of the deep 
Scarce heaved a passing sigh ; 
Like winter's gate 
Seemed Behring's Strait ; 
A ship was sailing by. 

And she was manned with noble men, 

Right loyal men and true ; 
'Twould take a poet's master pen 
To eulogise her crew ; 
They sought the same 
Ambitious fame 
The sage Phoenician knew. 



* In the year 17 — , a whale-ship discovered a dismantled vessel 
in Nootka Sound. On nearing her no vestige of life was seen on her 
decks, but on boarding her they found several frozen bodies in her 
cabin. From the captain's log they ascertained that she was a 
Swedish vessel, and had sailed from Stockholm twenty-five years 
before on a voyage of discovery. She was supposed to have found- 
ered at sea, and this was the first intimation of her awful fate amid 
the icebergs of the Arctic Ocean. 







40 



ft: 



THE FROZEN SHIP. 



As when tlie dark Egyptian cast 

His gauntlet to all time, 
Those records still of ages past 
To knell the future's chime, 
They sought the key 
Of mystery 
That locked up lands subhme. 

Behind an iceberg sank the sun, 

And glorious was the scene, 
For silver clouds, aye, many a one, 
Were flashing oft between ; 
Those air-built ships 
Made pleasant trips. 
In seas of gold and green. 

But soon the wind sprung up again, 

The iceberg by them passed. 

Another vessel's on the main, 

The prey of every blast : 

The northern gales 

Had torn her sails, 

The ice had bound her fast. 

And when they bore down to the wreck, 

'Twas covered o'er with snow ; 
There were none living on her deck. 
And so they sought below. 
'Twas fearful, when 
Those iron men 
First read the tale of woe. 

Some, frozen, knelt in seeming prayer ; 
Some had despairing died ; 








SONG OF THE DEMON. 



41 



The captain clasped a form most fair, 
It was his frozen bride — 

From all apart, 

A single heart 
That death could not divide. 

And who can tell what bitter tears 

The last poor mourner shed ? 
Did hope disarm a thousand fears 
And show a sail ahead ? — 
A desert gleam 
Of mirage stream, 
That failed — and all were dead. 

They sought no more the Artie clue 

That bounds the northern main. 
And many of that noble crew 
Ne'er went to sea again. 
The son of skill 
With iron will 
Has yet that pass to gain. 



SONa OF THE DEMON 






Toll! Toll! Toll! 
Let the tocsin peal again ; 

Let the earthquake ride, 

In its fearful pride. 
And hurrah for a quick amen. 





42 



SONG OF THE DEINIGN 




Souls! Souls! Souls! 
To bind in endless chains. 

'Tis a goodly sight — 

And with wild delight 
We may gaze on countless gains. 

Howl! Howl! Howl! 
Let Hell's dark arches roar ; 

For a Christian few 

Will escape our crew, 
And we never can tempt them more. 

RoU! Roll! Roll 
The burning lava on ! 

From the hissing store, 

That laves the shore 
Of fiery Phlegethon. 

Bind! Bind! Bind 

The gates of darkness fast ! 
While the prey that's hurled 
From each fore-doomed world. 

Still mourn o'er the faded past. 

More ! More ! More ! 
To writhe in the sulphur tide ; 

For the demon's throne 

The whole would own, 
For the fate of the Crucified. 







GROTTO OF ANTIPAROS. 43 



OROTTO OF ANTIPAROS. 

The angels tune their harps of light, and trill Eve's vesper 

lays; 
Each star of night, with beauty bright, throws out its silver 

rays ; 
To sea and strand, to fairy land, their Eden beauties throng, 
They usher in the vesper hymn, as pure as childhood's song. 

The stars bend o'er the flashing shore, they glimmer on the 

sea ; 
Each Grrecian isle wears evening's smile beneath their melody ; 
The ocean weaves in silver sheaves the harvest of the night, 
Each billow breaks in foaming flakes of undulating light. 



And 'neath a sky like Italy's, in poet's rhyme portrayed. 
An isle appears in beauty's zone, with lovely things arrayed ; 
The dark Corsair finds pleasure there, that lulls his wild career. 
The cheek that's pressed a mother's breast, once more can 
find a tear. 

And in that isle of pure delight, where beauty loves to dwell, 
A cavern greets the seeker's view, more bright than tongue 

can tell ; 
With countless gems, like diadems, it throws its sheen afar — 
A throne of night, arrayed in light, with every inch a star. 

'Tis Antiparos' crystal tent, where Nature conquers Art, 
Where all can see the Deity in changing shadows start : 
No work of man, no mighty plan, that thought can- e'er be- 
guile, 
Can equal this pure chrysalis of Antiparos' isle. 







44 napoleon's return to Waterloo 



NAPOLEON'S RETURN TO WATERLOO 

'Twas dark as ether void of light, 
Round St. Helena's fettered throne, 

Aye, darker than the age of night, 
When feudal rapine swayed alone ; 

And phantoms in the darkness flew, 

Who shouted : " On to Waterloo ! 

" Wake, leader of the spirit crowd ! 

Wake, as thou wast before ! 
Wake, thou who, in thy martial shroud, 

Shook'st kingdoms to their core ! 
Come, burst thy chains ! a gallant crew 
Will follow thee to Waterloo. 

" Our shield shall be the howling storm, 

Led by the thunder train ; 
Each lance is tipped with lightning warm, 

The lost field to regain ; 
Our hearts are neither faint nor few. 
To charge once more for Waterloo. 

" We will revenge our slaughtered hosts 

Who fell by England's hand. 
Marengo lends its solemn ghosts ; 

Some come from Egypt's sand ; 
Stand forth ! each glorious rank review, 
Then lead us on to Waterloo. 



):%- 




napoleon's return to WATERLOO. 45 



" Huzza ! his mighty soul awakes 

To lead our numbers on ; 
One sound like heaving thunder breaks- 

YivE, Vive Napoleon ! 
As loud as judgment's trumpet blew, 
It echoes on to Waterloo. 

" The field of blood is now our path, 

The isle looms far behind ; 
We ride the tempest in its wrath, 

Swift as the stormy wind, 
Till, lo ! quick bursts upon our view 
The fatal field of Waterloo ! 

" There is no army in the glen. 

No preparation there — 
Where hide the hostile Englishmen ? 

Hark ! echo answers, ' Where !' 
Napoleon, we told thee true — 
Thy spirit band wins Waterloo ! 




" Turn back to St. Helena's isle — 
Our fearful task is done ; 

All earth shall wear an Eden smile 
At field so peaceful won ; 

And nations yet will find the clue 

To win or lose a Waterloo !" 






:;s^ 





46 M A R Y M A G D A L E N 



MARY MAGDALEN.* 

Now Grod refolds the wings of light to nestle in the west, 
And evening's dewy footsteps hear the weary sun to rest ; 
While shadows lengthen o'er the stream of Time's broad mea- 
dow lands, 
And Fancy's thrilling bark of light awaits the soul's commands, 
While memory of kindly things throws off the folds of pride. 
To gaze upon a fallen one, who yet repentant died. 

A lovely one of olden times, most beautiful and fair — 

A brow that seemed to drink the light, breathed from her 

golden hair ; 
A voice that trembled on the breeze like melody unstrung. 
As harps aeolian wildly play, by angel artists rung ; 
And eyes like mirrors of a soul that never knew of harm ; 
A form to try the poet's art, as Arab legends charm. 

'Twas night, and sombre shadows stole far down the vale of 

Nain, 
The moon arose, a silver shield, o'er forest, lake, and plain. 
Deep G-allilee in distance lay, like some enchanted scene. 
Fair Bethlehem and Nazareth stood guiding stars between ; 
The voiceless land seemed lulled to rest in silent glory then. 
But sleep cheered not the lovely brow of Mary Magdalen. 



* I have read a tradition somewhere, that Mary Magdalen was 
the mistress of the son of Nain's chief magistrate ; that she was also 
a woman of rare beauty and accomplishments; and was recalled 
from the error of her ways by a Dalmatian slave, who had been pre- 
sented to her by her princely lover. The girl had heard Jesus ex- 
pounding his doctrines in the market-place of Nain, and told her 
mistress all. Mary, touched with contrition for the past, comes to 
Jesus, and washes his feet with her tears — an act so penitent, that 
it seems to have inspired our blessed Saviour with uncontrollable 
emotion. 








MARY MAGDALEN. 



47 



Upon the silken couch of shame reclined the fallen maid, 
Betrayer of a thousand hearts — herself the most betrayed ; 
A bracelet on the carpet flashed, her dainty foot had spurned ; 
In silver censers swung apart, the purest incense burned ; 
And fair attendants stood around arrayed in green and gold, 
While through the range of lofty haUs rich strains of music 
rolled. 

She said, " Come hither, dark eyed girl ! let aU the rest de- 
part ; 

Can Adah tell some lovely tale to cheer a lonely heart ? 

Some pleasant scene of bygone times in thy pure mountain 
home ? 

Would'st leave thy gentle mistress, girl — this rich and costly 
dome ? 

Nay ! weep not, maid, I love thee well — tears ill become thine 
eyes; 

Thou shalt behold thy home again, and bloom beneath its skies. " 

" I would not leave thee, mistress dear," the gentle girl replied : 
Those words that trembled from her lips were by her heart 

denied : 
" And, now, to cheer thy noble soul, and pass the time away, 
I will relate a simple scene that happened here to-day. 
'Twas in the market place of Nain I saw the Nazarite, 
Whom some call Jesus, some a God, restore the blind to sight. 

" He stood so bright and beautiful, and yet in sadness seemed ; 
We thought the spell would pass away, and aU of us had 

dreamed. 
He spake so kindly in our midst, while tears rained from his 

eyes, 

And pure and holy seemed the One the Pharisees despise, 
rarain 








LIFE. 



All felt those tones of tenderness ; eacli unbeliever Hushed ; 
It seemed Grod's voice unconscious spake, while every heart 
was hushed. 

" Pray, noble lady, do not weep ; my simple tale is o'er, 
For Jesus bade us then adieu, and said, ^ Go, sin no more.' 
If Adah could prevail on thee to hear his kindly voice. 
Those bitter tears would cease to flow, thy noble soul rejoice." 
But tears are bright and holy things, oft hid from human ken, 
And all that long and weary night wept Mary Magdalen. 

The sacred lore of days gone by tells how a noble dame. 
Repentant for her erring deeds, unto the Saviour came ; 
How she resigned earth's fleeting joys, though beautiful and 

fair, 
And with her tears washed Jesus' feet, and dried them with 

her hair. 
Thus thought illumes the world of old to guide the poet's strain, 
May all forgive, as Jesus did, the Magdalen of Nain. 



LIFE. 

Life's a bubble from a billow. 
On Death's ocean it must pillow ; 
Floating forth on Time's dark river, 
Till its earthly dreams shall shiver. 
Life is but a day of sorrow, 
Hoping for the bright to-morrow. 

There are hearts of seeming gladness. 
Linked with brows that wear no sadness ; 









BALBOA. 




49 



Could we s&arcli tliat heart's recesses, 
We would find that it transgresses ; 
None are free from care and strife, 
All possess the bubble — Life. 

When the tide of life is turning, 
Let thy beacon be but burning, 
Some kind angel Grod hath given, 
Will retrim thy lamp in heaven ; 
There 'twill burn ere you can enter, 
Like a fixed star in the centre. 



BALBOA. 

Hied he from his marshalled legions, 

On the lofty rock he stood ; 
Eastward gleamed barbaric regions. 

Westward rolled Pacific's flood. 
Stood he there like Alexander, 

Heart as fearless, soul as free 
As the noble Grreek, Lysander, 

When he clove the Pontic Sea. 




For blood-stained Hispaniola 

Long his master-spirit planned ; 
Lands as rich as swart Angola, 

Wore the chains of Ferdinand. 
He had stormed Grenada's towers. 

Where the Moorish banner fell ; 
There Balboa's brilliant powers 

Won the smile of Isabel. 





-<^ 



yJ-K 



50 PARADISE 



Time the crown of Spain has humbled, 

x\nd her glory now is past ; 
Her Armada long has crumbled 

In the ocean's bosom vast. 
'Twas the weaver of Grenoa 

That her brightest flao^ unfurled. 
And the poHtic Balboa 

Sought to chain the Western world. 



PARADISE. 

Like spotless snow, over Paran's brow, Grod's quivering spirit 

stood, 
While far below, in a ceaseless flow, rolled darkness' solemn 

flood; 
And each unseen vein held the lofty train that from his heart's 

core springs. 
While the voiceless night hid his soul of light in the shadows 

darkness brings. 
For a dread ecHpse o'erhung his lips, and blackness bathed his 

wings. 

Like a lonely barque on an ocean dark, his eternal spirit fell, 
And a single chime of his soul sublime seemed like a funeral 

knell ; 
For shapeless biers held the lifeless spheres over ether's pulse- 
less night. 
Like hemispheres that eternal tears had hid from eternal sight, 
Till the monarch God threw his soul abroad, dissolved in a sea 
of light. 

<^ ^= # 



PARADISE. 51 



Then tho flashing spray of the golden day seemed wove in 
the matchless blue, 

Like fadeless gleams of the fairy dreams that childhood's fancy 
drew ; 

Till the crystal tent of the firmament spread forth like a bound- 
less sea, 

Time's chrysalis stars with their airy spars sailed on to eternity, 

And a single clue led the lofty crew towards the throne of 
Deity. 

Like a lovely thought by an angel brought, in the brain of 
beauty lulled — 

Like some fair flower from Eden bower by an angel artist 
culled, 

In the brightest zone of his garden throne Grod grafted one fair 
stem. 

And the glories won by each brilliant sun reflect on this match- 
less gem. 

And to lose the rays of its countless days might dim (rod's 
diadem. 

There the secret skiU of His mighty will built the walls of 
Paradise ; 

There the boundless art of His lofty heart in its truest nature 
lies. 

Like a jewel rare stands this city fair on the orbits golden shore, 

As a thought prevails of the genii tales, arrayed in the Arab's 
lore. 

For the lucid dome of each angel home burns a beacon ever- 
more. 

Like the spangled dyes of the western skies when the dewy 

twilight falls. 
Seems the rainbow hue of the morning blue that gleams on the 

crystal walls. 




(^ 





Hi. 

52 THE>'IGHTWIXD. 

As the frozen Xortli throws its shadows forth o'er an orbit 

dark and dim ; 
"When the goblet light fills the azure height and sparkles o'er 

the brim, 
Bends the arch above of God's boundless love, and its glory 

centres Him. 

As an echo trills through the gladdened hills when spring-time 

flowers smile, 
Bidding earth rejoice, fell a thi-illing voice over Patmos' barren 

isle : 
Round the holy page of a former age these glorious thoughts 

combine. 
For the sea of space has no resting place where so fair a world 

could shine, — 
Grod's spiiit bore to the unknown shore the Evangelist divine. 




THE NiaHT WIND. 

'Tis evening ; the day-king hath taken his flight. 
But the fair stars above us rain rivers of light. 

For the bright lips of gloiy are parted above, 
To breathe on our orbit sweet kisses of love. 

How solemn's the night wind — ^how mournful its tone ! 

When aU else is silent, it murmurs alone ; 
Like an old man all weary, yet fearing to die. 

It whispers of Heaven, oft breathing a sigh. 



}^' 






heart'secho. 53 

How sweet is the night wind ! what memories start, 
When its melody quivers the strings of the heart ; 

Like manna its music descends from the sky, 

From dear ones departed, God's dear ones on high. 

'Tis morning ; the night wind no longer can stay, 
For the golden East bringeth the king of the day ; 

But evening will win his far kingdom again. 

And the voice of the night wind will echo her reign. 



HEART'S ECHO. 

Beating, beating, still repeating, in the never-ceasing strife ; 

Strife ! 
Straining, straining, never gaining, how it battles on for life ! 

Building, building, ever gilding, fairy castles in the air ; 

Air I 

Fleeting, fleeting, from our meeting, only echo answers 

'Where!' 

' Where P 

Sighing, sighing, ever trying, for the empty bubble, fame ; 

Fame ! 
Grroping, groping, always hoping, till it finds it but a name ! 

Name ! 
Telling, telling, with its knelling, of the sad and weary past ; 

Past ! 
Strewing, strewing, its undoing, like the leaves to autumn's 
blast ! 

Blast ! 









54 THE BEARING OF THE CROSS. 

Striving, striving, never thriving, till the dial points too late ; 

Late ! 
Dreaming, dreaming, in its deeming, of the wayward course of 
fate! 

Fate ! 

Showing, showing, ever flowing, like the waters to and fro ; 

F!ro! 
Rolling, rolling. Time is tolling, for the changing hearfs echo ! 

Echo ! 



THE BEARING OF THE CROSS. 

A HYMN FOR PASSION WEEK. 

No fairer morn 

To earth was born. 
The smi kissed Judah's mountains ; 

No brighter rays 

In happy days. 
E'er gushed from heaven's fountains : 

And floating there. 

Each cloud in air 
Seemed timidly to falter — 

A blushing bride. 

In all her pride 
Led forth to Morning's altar. * 

To heaven flew 

The gems of dew 
From Sharon's rosy bowers, 

¥> r = — "=^^ 




THE BEARING OF THE CROSS, 



55 



To fall again, 

When Evening's train 
Tkrew shadows o'er its flowers ; 

And fancy flings 

Such lovely things 
Around the soul 'tis bending, 

You well can see 

On Calvary 
Bright angels are descending. 



They whisper low, 

As angels do. 
When gladness hath departed 

As mother's keep 

Their sorrows deep 
When they are broken-hearted. 

They whisper low — 

Why is it so ? 
Immortal brows are paling ; 

The wind alone 

Can hear each moan 
When angel hearts are failing. 

Jerusalem, 

Thy doom hath come. 
Thy future shall be sorrow ; 

A dark to-day 

Will fade away. 
But bring a dark to-morrow. 

In every land. 

On every strand. 
Thy fondest hopes shall sever, 

Till all will seem 

A hollow dream 
Of glories fled forever. 






If 



56 






THE BEARING OF THE CROSS 




'Tis noon ; Jordan's river 

Flows flashing in gold ; 
And bright sunbeams quiver 

Light's banner unrolled ; 
Xo tribute streams sparing 

Their joys to impart, 
Like veins often bearing 

The blood to the heart. 

" Go onward ! walk faster ! 

Why tarry ye now, 
False prophet, false master ? 

The crown's on thy brow. 
'Tis thy coronation, 

Time suffers the loss ; 

Thou art king of no nation, 

• But King of the Cross." 

'Tis Jesus, the Holy, 

Our Saviour of love, 
The Cross bearing lowly, 

Oft looking above ; 
While bright angels tearful 

Are hovering near ; 
The sight is so fearful — 

Christ bearing His bier. 

" May ye be forgiven !" 
His only sweet prayer ; 

The second in heaven 

Though lowliest there. 

Yet each tear adorning 
The spot where he trod. 

Took the wings of the morning, 
And fluttered to God. 



vV^-) 



W 



(?f^ 




THE BEARING OF THE CROSS 



57 



A fearful doom paying, 
On that awful day, 
And only once praying 

" May this pass away !" 
Till each angel pinion, 

Dissolving in air, 
Had left his dominion, 

The throne of despair. 



'Tis evening, but no star arrays the breadth of solemn gloom. 
The world seems like a giant corse laid in a system's tomb ; 
Save in its heart an earthquake beats, the throb of life below. 
An echo to dark thunder-clouds that breathe upon its brow. 
And when the lightning shimmers through the trappings of the 

bier, 
It glimmers o'er unhallowed things that quickly disappear — 
Dark phantoms of a former world who trembling have defined, 
The clouds are but a blackened veil, the living Grod behind. 



'Tis midnight ; from heaven 

Descendeth Godh love ; 
A world is forgiven, 

Christ mounteth above ; 
The archangels singing 

A chorus sublime, 
A bright spirit bringing 

To heaven from time. 

Break, soul, from the portals 
That bind thee to earth. 

And fly with immortals. 
Thy brothers at birth 






58 




5 X W 



Thy pathway is broken, 
It leads to Grod's throne. 

And now, a bright token. 
He claims thee his own. 



SNOW. 

Gently floating 
Thi'ough the air, 

Thus denotino; 

Childhood fair ; 
Clouds unlading 

Crystal tears, 
Ever fading 

Like oui' years ; 
Spring will hghtly 

Come and go, 
Gleaming brightly 

As the snow. 

Summer weaving 

Many smiles. 
Thus deceiving, 

Hope beguiles ; 
Summer's o'er, 

Autumn's past, 
Winter's shore 

Hail at last ! 
Life we cherish 

For its sake. 
Soon will perish, 

Like the flake. 






THE FLAG OF OUR UNION. 59 



y. 



-m 




THE FLAG OF OUR UNION, 

SPIRIT OF AIR. 

The stars' silver rays, 

Light the fathomless deep, 
Each bright pinion plays 

O'er the world's solemn sleep ; 
On the wings of enchantment 

I scathe the blue sky. 
And watch with entrancement 

Each orbit wheel by — 
See the volcano's dome, 

When it thunders aloud, 
Or drink of the foam 

Of the storm-driven cloud. 
Columbia rewarded 

I watch o'er with care ; 
Its banner is guarded 

By Spirits of Air. 



spiRi T or fire. 

From the pall of night 
Rose the beacon light, 

And I dwell in its crystal core. 
Though I gild the bars 
Of the brilliant stars 

That spangle the universe o'er, 
I dwell in the vein 
Of the earthquake's train. 

And lighten its funeral pyre : 






60 



THE FLAG OF OUR UNION 




But the flag sublime 
Of fair Freedom's clime 
Has its guardian spirit, Fire. 



SPIRI T OF EARTH. 

I dwell in tlie mountain, tlie valley, and glade ; 

I view the fair world in its glory arrayed ; 

From morning's bright gates to the gold-clouded West, 

I watch o'er the soil of the free and the blest. 

Like the star-spangled banner my pinions shall wave 

" O'er the land of the free, and the home of the brave." 



SPI RIT OF W A TER. 

I dwell in the ocean's dark blue waves, 
And I span the depth of its coral caves ; 
My home is built 'neath a liquid sky, 
While the ships above, like clouds, sail by ; 
And I guide the flag of the brave and free. 
Like a treasure rare, o'er the soundless sea. 





THE MISSISSIPPI. 61 



THE MISSISSIPPI. 

Europe boasts of the Rhine 

With its old gothic towers, 
Where the bright sunbeams shine 

Over rosy clad bowers ; 
Where the moon's silver pinions 

Are nightly recalled, 
To cheer the dominions 

Of dark Odenwald 

Asia clings to the glory 

Of swart Hindostan ; 
Her river in story 

For centuries ran. 
From Himmalah's mountain 

To ocean's broad tide, 
It trails its dark fountain, 

A banner of pride. 

And Afric will measure 

Her wide flowing Nile, 
Old Egypt's great treasure. 

Where deserts may smile j 
Through lands patriarchal. 

Still rich in their lore, 
Its bright waters sparkle 

As did they of yore. 

But Columbia's valley 

A river doth hold. 
Whose waters still rally 

In sunshine and gold ; 



-ri) 




^j 





-^^ 



THE TWO RIVERS 



Like Macedon Tsielding 
The crown of the world ; 

Eaeli tribute stream yielding 
Its banners unfurled. 

The pride of the nation 

TThere commerce will keep, 
Till weary creation 

Dissolveth the deep ; 
A true mediator 

To gladden earth's toil, 
Sent by the Creator 

To freedom's fail" soil. 



THE TWO RIVERS. 

There's a bright and pleasant river, 
Flowing on to God forever ; 
On its banks the flowers shiver 
When the winds around them quiver, 
And from their stems they sever ; 
Wafted to this lovely river. 
They float on to God forever, 
Forever and forever. 

And each billow sparkles brightly. 
As it bears its burthen lightly, 
Pure as stars that glisten nightly — 
Nought is there to deem imsightly ; 
And each flower on the river 
Has a voice that seems to quiver : — 
^' We sail on to God forever, 
Forever and forever." 



G. 






THE FOUR WINDS. 



There's a dark and gloomy river 
Flowing on to Hades ever ; 
On its banks the rank weeds shiver, 
When the winds around them quiver, 
And from the earth they sever ; 
Hurled into this gloomy river, 
They float on to Hades ever. 
Forever and forever. 

And each billow wildly heaving. 
Bears a burthen, onward cleaving. 
While Egyptian darkness weaving 
Hides the subtle bank deceiving. 
And each weed upon the river 
Has a voice that seems to quiver : — 
" I, alas ! am doomed forever. 
Forever and forever !" 



THE FOUR WINDS. 

NORTH. 

I come from the Northland's frozen zone, 
Where I reign supreme on my virgin throne. 
I am monarch sole of the northern land, 
And my kingdom's bound with an iron band 
Let the mariner use his best device, 
He cannot break through its wall of ice. 
From the brow of the world I g^ze afar. 
And watch the rays of the polar star. 




63 





64 






THE FOUR WINDS. 



WMe my wings are bathed with the golden light. 
That redeems the day with a Lapland night ; 
Xot all the riches of earth combined 
Could build a gem like the northern wind ; 
Not all the raiment of Sheba's queen 
Could equal its dyes of gold and green ; 
And Solomon's wealth were a meagre store, 
To an iceberg floating by Labrador. 



SOUTH. 

Where spring-time flowers forever smile 

'Neath the tropic sun of each Indian isle, 

I ripple the waves of the soundless seas, 

Or waft perfume from the almond trees : 

I drink the dew of the night above, 

When the stars gaze down from their thrones of love. 

Oh ! mine is the spell that so oft can charm 

And soothe the land with my kisses warm ! 

But oft, when the sands of the desert blow, 

I roll in the tides of the SiiTOCCO ; 

And then with my awful art I plan 

A living tomb for the caravan. 

But I shake the blight from my crystal wings. 

And smUe once more over brighter things. 

Oh ! mine is the home of the beautiful clime. 

That the poet weaves in the woof of rhyme. 




EAST. 



Where the sun flings his pinions to morning's bright feast, 
I dwell in the land of the glorious East. 



^v 



(?^: 



THEFOURWINDS. 65 

Where the beacon of mercy in gladness appeared, 

To guide each pure heart to the shrine it revered. 

I dwell in the zone where the silver stars rise, 

When they tread through the blue of the fathomless skies ; 

I bear the pure breath of the sweet-savored gale. 

From the forests of spices that round me prevail. 

But I hold in my bosom the simoom's fell seed 

That courseth the desert with death in its speed. 

And the Arab lies hushed, for none can withstand 

When I smite the hot breast of Saharah's dark sand. 

Then I float to a sky that all glory enshrouds. 

And I trim the bright borders of Italy's clouds. 

Oh ! I love the fair land of the sculptor divine, 

And the home of the artist and scholar is mine ! 




WEST 



I dwell in the land earth acknowledges best. 
The fair soil of freedom, the home of the blest : — 
Where the shade of Columbus from heaven can gaze 
On a banner that mingles the star's silver rays ; 
Where a Washington flourished 'neath Liberty's sky. 
Where he flourishes still, for he never can die. 
I dwell in the land where the stranger can come, 
My star is the beacon that welcomes him home ; 
He will find a true welcome, for broad is the field. 
And spring-time and harvest their treasures shall yield ; 
He will find the dark past from the present beguiled. 
When he tilleth the soil of the prairie's rich wild. 
My home is as bright as fair Italy's shore. 
Its charms treasured more than all India's store ; 
And the kingdoms of earth are but baubles to me, 
When my pinions unfm-l the proud flag of the free. 







--^'r^ 



QQ 



THE POET'S ISLE. 



THE POET'S ISLE.* 

In the Grecian Archipelago the poet's minstrelsy 

Builds a fair and lovely island, like a diamond in the sea ; 

Half of earth and half of heaven seems the bright enchanting 

spot, 
Like an Eden all forgiven, by the angels ne'er forgot. 

None can view the lovely vision, be they of mortal mould, 
For it fadeth like a whisper when the echo's often told ; 
Yet it falls in glowing numbers round imagination's theme. 
And we feel in fancy's slumbers that it cannot be a dream. 



* This Poem called forth the following beautiful response from 
one who has often herself visited, and knows well how to appreciate 
the " Poet's Isle." The lines on the next page are descriptive of 
the author's feelings on reading " The Poet Crowned." 

THE POET CROWNED. 

A TRIBUTE OF RESPECT TO JGHIV COOPER VAIIi. 
BY A. S. 

waft me to that island in the Archipelago, 
Where lilies into pearls are changed, and roses rubies grow ; 
Where Vail in spirit drinketh deep of inspiration's spring, 
And Fancy steeps his pen in dyes from her resplendent wing. 

There beings float around him on June's ambrosial breeze, 
O'er streams of sparkling water, among the citron trees; 
They eulogise his muse in songs of melody so rare. 
That but the music of the spheres and angel lutes compare. 

Visions of loveliness and light surround him in the grove, 
Charming him in Elysian dreams of honor, fame, and love; 
A coronal of fadeless flowers their slender fingers twine. 
Mingling the laurel and the rose, the myrtle and the vine. 

The bright-eyed daughters of the day look down and sweetly smile 
On a glorious coronation, at the poet's diamond isle: 
Spirits in countless numbers meet, from air, and earth, and sea — 
And the laureate's crowned Lord of the Isle, and King of Poesy. 



% 






TO MRS. ANNA SALTUS. 



There the flowers mingle incense with every passing gale, 
And translucent beings drink it from these founts that never 

fail; 
While melody's dominion seems awakened everywhere, 
By the seraph's ceaseless pinion, sweeping through the fields 

of air. 

There Italian twilights hnger when each lovely day is gone ; 
There the morn with rosy finger throws her gayest jewels on. 
Not Araby spice-laden, nor the fairest soil we know, 
Can realize this Aiden in the Archipelago. 



TO MRS. ANNA SALTUS 

Lady, pardon me, a stranger, 

While my muse to thee I lend ; 
Through this weary world a ranger, 

I have often sought a friend. 
Once a little poem fluttered 

To thee, lady, from my pen ; 
Notes my heart had scarcely uttered— 

Thou didst echo them again. 

mm 
Echo, pure as Heaven's manna, 

When it rippled from the skies : 
Then, dear gentle lady Anna, 

Tear-drops trembled in my eyes ; 
And my soul had thoughts elysian 

That my heart remembers well — 
Something like an angel's mission 

To me, gentle lady, fell. 



%- 





68 




TO aiRS. «^NNA SALTUS. 



Lady, now I well remember 

When I sought the "poet's isle : 
'Twas a night in dark December, 

Nothing near me wore a smile ; 
But I trimmed my bark, fair lady, 

With ideal pennons free — 
Byron never sought for Haide 

Such a garden in the sea. 

There in fancy I have wandered, 

When the evening stars did rise ; 
And in lovely dreams I pondered 

If they equalled thy bright eyes. 
And I sought each angel bower, 

Where the pearls and rubies grow ; 
But not one enchanted flower 

Rivalled thy pure brow of snow. 

Often clouds of light were filling 

All the borders of the West ; 
While the seraph's vesper trilling, 

Seemed to lull the sun to rest. 
Then I bowed my head to listen 

To each angel voice divine ; 
Lady, do thine eyelids glisten ? — 

Often I have singled thine. 

Jesus said, " Upon the waters 

Cast thy bread of charity :" 
Kindest of Fredonia's daughters. 

Now a crumb returns to thee. 
Lady, 'tis a pure endeavor 

To repay thy boon in part ; 
For no dream of life can sever 

Thy past kindness from my heart. 






THE maiden's pass. 69 




BALLADS AND LEGENDS. 



THE MAIDEN'S PASS.* 

'Twas night — a night so black and bare, 
It seemed to dye the voiceless air, 
TiU darkness revelled everywhere, 

The king of all supreme ; 
And still, save when a distant roar, 
Which fitful gusts of wind upbore. 
Low booming, reached dark Norway's shore, 

Like sounds heard in a dream. 

A solemn sound that echoed loud. 

As when some dark-wheeled thunder cloud 

Builds darker hues, piles shroud on shroud, 

TiU lightning rends the gloom. 
Upon the pinions of the blast. 
Those fearful tones of terror past. 
Till echoed on the shore at last 

The thunders of Maelstrom. I 



* This Poem was suggested by reading a story of Norway, in whicli 
the hero was a Norwegian hunter, by the name of Alf Stafoul. The 
story is entitled "The Sky-Leapers," and is no doubt familiar to 
many of the readers of this book. By a poet's license, the author 
has substituted for the hunter a mountain maid. 

t A dreadful whirlpool on the coast of Norway. 




\^i 



^= 



70 



THE INIAIDEN'S PASS, 




Beneath the cloak of wizard night. 
Rose Dourfield's frozen mountain-height. 
Where wheels the eagle in his flight, 

O'er Glomen's icy fall ; 
But he lono; since had sought his nest, 

O ■ o 7 

Far up the snow-built glacier's crest, 

The avalanche seemed lulled to rest, 

And slept the Norsemen thrall. 

In dreams the soil once more was free ; 
From Lapland to the Baltic Sea, 
Waved Freedom's banner gloriously, 

As ere his heart was wrung — 
When some to mountain fastness hied. 
Some yielded, yet despairing died. 
Some joined the tyrant Christian's side,* 

And round his banner cluno-. 

o 

Far up the Dourfi^ld's frozen zone, 

A cot stood by itself alone, 

A freeborn Norseman hunter's thi-one — 

Free rain fell from its eaves. 
Beneath a lofty pine-tree's shade 
His noble wife long since he laid — 
He loved the very winds that stayed 

To whisper 'mid its leaves. 

He had one daughter, fair and true. 
With cherry lips and eyes of blue ; 
A brow like foam the breakers threw, 
Flashed 'neath each auburn cm-l. 



* Christian II, the oppressor of the country. 




s; 





THE maiden's pass. 



71 




A scion of Harfager's race,* 
The willing connoisseur could trace, 
On that fair brow and faultless face, 
The pure Norwegian girl. 

And many tales of wonder rare 
Brave Oloff taught his daughter fair. 
Dark legends of their mountains bare. 

And songs the Norsemen sing : 
How with a staunch and fearless band, 
Alwilda| scoured both sea and strand, 
To win red Eric's royal hand, 

The bravest phate king. 

With legend dark, or ancient lay. 
Passed many a winter's night away ; 
Their resin torch, with fitful ray, 

Oft in its socket burned. 
This night they slept, for Oloff's toil 
Had ended with the day's turmoil. 
When, weary with his weight of spoil. 

He to his home retm-ned. 

He dreams : life's brightest thought distils ; 
Once more fair Freedom's cup he fills ; 
As thunder vibrates through the hills. 

Then pealed one loud Huzzah ! 
He woke from out that dream too late — 
The Swede had stormed his cottage gate : 
Brynhilda knew her father's fate — 

His murderers she saw. 



* The women of Norway are tall and well proportioned; their 
hair is generally a beautiful auburn, 
f The female Pirate of the Baltic. 




:|« 




72 THE maiden's pass. 

Though, like fair Mobe she stood, 

Her eyes discoursed no tearful flood, 

But leaped her heart, and boiled her blood. 

With the true Norseman hate. 
That lovely, guiltless northern maid 
No woman's sign of fear betrayed ; 
Reared 'neath the avalanche's shade. 

She calmly braved her fate. 

Then spake the chieftain of the throng : 
" The night is dark, our skates are strong :- 
The maid shall lead our band along, 

The hidden pass to gain. 
Her rebel feet in skates we'll bind ; 
Thus we the path will surely find !" 
Quickly each torch streamed in the wind, 

Brynhilda led the train. 

Far up they skimmed the frozen snow. 
The world in darkness slept below, 
They felt the northern tempest blow, 

Keen from each icy wold : 
All silent, for a word might launch 
The awful wheeling avalanche,* 
To bury all their valor staunch 

In its colossal fold. 

Like Hella| seemed the maiden fair ; 
Waved to the breeze her auburn hair ; 
Each torch threw far its lurid glare ; 
They skimmed the mountain's dome — 



* Travellers state that in those awful solitudes the human voice 
will often start the avalanche. 

t The Godess of Death in the Scandinavian mythology. 








3 



THE JNIAIDEN'S PASS. 




73 



Wild Dourfield, wliere the snow gusts knock, 
As on the North Cape's wall of rock 
Wave beats on wave with earthquake shock, 
And still dissolves in foam. 

And now the pass seemed well nigh gained ; 
That pass her father's blood had stained. 
But Oloff well Brjnhilda trained 

To hate her country's foe : 
For quick as woman's voiceless thought, 
A blasted pine tree's branch she caught — 
A vengeance rare Brynhilda sought — 

And hurled her torch below. 

Then in the deep dark gulf of night. 
Torch followed torch in streams of light ; 
Like fiery billows flashing bright, 

The burning cascade fell. 
One leap, as stars fall from the sky — 
One shriek, that echoed far on high — 
The famished eagles sailing by 

Alone their fate could tell. 

Brynhilda fair no more was seen ; 
None could her mournful story glean. 
Spring came again with foilage green, 

Her wealth of flowers sj)rang forth : 
At midnight oft the hunter sees 
That spectral band flash through the trees. 
Their torch-lights streamino- in the breeze. 

Dark phantoms of the North. 






74 



MARRIES VISION. 



MARRI'S VISION.* 

Over bleak and frozen Northland rose the silver stars on high ; 
Ghostly clouds were wildly marching through the chambers of 

the sky ; 
And their white-fringed borders glistened when the moonbeams 

round them played, 
As a halo circles angels in the foam of light arrayed ; 
While tiie winds, in tuneful numbers, sang to mountain, glen, 

and glade. 

Echoed forth the night-wind's music through the pine trees 

dark and tall. 
As we hear the gentle murmurs of a distant waterfall : 
On its soft and pliant bosom, did a banner float and flow. 
From the Sea-King's castle turret, for Hardrada slept below — 
One who loved was watching o'er him, with a brow like Arc- 
tic snow. 

Clanked the mail of tnistfd warders, as they strode with pace 

profound. 
Softer breathed the blue-eyed maiden, as she strove to luU the 

sound. 



* Bulwer, in his work entitled, " The Last of the Saxon Kings," 
speaks in glowing terms of the many feats of the sea-king, Harold 
Hardrada. This hero, in one of his piratical excursions up the Me- 
diterranean, is taken prisoner by the Turks, and consigned to a 
dungeon in Constantinople. Zoe, a Turkish lady, charmed by the 
corsair's daring feats of arms and manly appearance, finds means to 
release him; but on condition that she is to be the partner of his 
flight. Hardrada accedes to her proposal, and promises to make her 
his wife as soon as his ship touches the coast of Norway. She fulfils 
her part of the compact, but the false Hardrada, captivated by the 
beauty of her hand-maiden, Marri, forsakes the lady for the slave, 
and escapes. The Poem is purely imaginative. 






& 




r^. 



MARRI'S VISION 



75 



When tlie dreamer's brow grew darker with a strange and 

varied tinge. 
Then her tear^ fell fast and faster, from their long and silken 

fringe — 
Like a flood of glory falling, when the gates of light unhinge. 

Then a strain, melodious, solemn, through the guarded cham- 
ber rolled. 
Like the last low fading echo, when a convent bell is tolled : 
Notes that thrilled the gentle mourner, as the harps of angels 

win — 
Till she opened wide the casement, to confirm the saintly din. 
And a flood of music mingled with the moonlight gushing in. 

In the distance shone an army, as the casement back she drew ; 
Faintly gleamed their foglike armor on the gentle maiden's 

view ; 
And their phantom banners quivered 'neath the moonlight 

gloating o'er, 
Like smoke-wreaths long suspended, ere they join with ether's 

store. 
For the stars flashed brightly through them, and the foam on 

Norway's shore. 

Flapped the world-renowned Land Eyda,* leading on the 

fearful throng ; 
Chimed the ocean's wild-tuned surges with the Berserk's 

spirit song ; 
And the traitor Saxon, Tostig,| seemed to lead the Norsemen 

tide, 
While Hardrada towered near him, though he slumbered by 

her side. 
And between the dead and living paused the maiden to decide. 

* The banner of the Norsemen, f Brother of Harold of England. 



£ 



A(^ ■ (i. 

'76 :^i A R R I ' S V I S I X . I 

mmm 

To the wild steeds of the ocean marched the Viking's spectre 

crew, 
And the war-ships of the Xorsemen clove the foaming sm-ges 

through ; 
Bent their white wings to the tempest, flashed their prows of 

golden sheen, 
Till the froth of heaving billows built a wall of light between, 
When, like fleeting clouds, they vanished from the strange 

eventful scene. 



Turned the maiden from the lattice^ thrilled the pulses of her 

heart : 
Slumbered stUl the Xorseman chieftain, like a sculptured bust 

of art, 
And his auburn locks lay scattered on the pillow they caressed. 
As a flood of sunbeams tremble on a breaker's foamino- crest, 

o 

Bending fondly, sadly, o'er him, to his lips her own she pressed. 

Folded all the tents of darkness, vanished then the desert mo^ht : 
Rose the oasis of brightness, bubbled forth the springs of light. 
As caravans, outnumbered, from the Arabs flee away. 
Fled the stars with timid footsteps from the presence of the 

day, 
And a sea of triple glory hid the Borealis' spray. 

Rose the Xorseman chief Hardrada, like a lion from his lair, 

His the fearless soul to conquer, his the willing soul to dare. 

Grathered Skald and wild Yaringer, where the raven banner 
shone. 

And the dread steeds of the ocean left the Northland's frozen 
zone, 

For the Sea-Kino; sought fair England, and the Saxon Ha- 
rold's throne. 

^ =1= =zi If 




% 



A L W I L D A 



77 



Chroniclers of times departed, in the sacred trust they shield, 
Tell us how the jDoet, Titan,* fell on Stamford's bloody field ;| 
How a page, like some bright angel, ever faithful standing by, 
Heard the last expiring murmur of Hardrada's battle cry : — 
But the echo mounted upward, with the spirit of Marri. 



ALWILDA.J 

O'er the dark Baltic Sea, 
Fearless and ever free, 
Rode a ship manfully, 

Bearing; rich treasure ; 
Hers was a pirate crew — 
Like a wild thing she flew 
O'er the broad waste of blue, 

Death was her pleasure. 



* Hardrada made verses and sang them on the battle field ; he was 
also a giant in stature being something over seven feet six inches 
in height ; his hair was a golden yellow, — and in the thickest of the 
melee he would often disdainfully throw aside his helmet, and thus, 
with his long locks scattered to the breeze, chaunting his northern 
rhymes, would hew down whole ranks of the enemy. 

t History informs us that the battle of Stamford was fought ten 
days previous to that of Hastings, and that Harold Hardrada was 
slain on the field. From his death may be dated the downfall of that 
scourge that proved so fatal to the commerce of the iron age. 

X Alwilda, the female pirate of the Baltic, was a cotemporary of 
Hardrada, the hero of the preceding poam. A tradition respecting 
her states that she made a vow, that he only should possess her 
hand who conquered her upon the ocean. After winning a hundi ed 
engagements, she was finally worsted, and became the bride of a dar- 
ing corsair! History does not inform us whether, after marriage, 
she continued in the same career, in which, as a virgin, she won 
such terrible renown. The Poem, however, is somewhat different 
from the historical facts. 



9^-- 
^-S- 



Pk 





A L WI LD A. 



'Twas in the olden times, 
Told of in poets' rhymes ; 
Sweet as Eve's vesper chimes, 

Come their past numbers. 
Waking each deed of fame, 
Breathing each lofty name : 
Life is a weary game, ' 

Death is its slumbers. 

Winter, with fearful gloom, 
Shod the dark Maelstrom, 
Black as unerring doom. 

Whirled its dread water ; 
Yet Norway's frozen coast 
Could one rich jewel boast — 
Alwilda, loved the most, 

Hunnigund's daughter. 

She loved a corsair bold ; 
He loved her manifold ; 
Often love's tale was told 

To the fan* maiden. 
Oft at the midnight hour 
Sought he Alwilda 's bower. 
Seeking love's only dower 

That was his Aiden. 

Love was the pleasant theme, 
Like the fair morning's beam ; 
None know a brighter dream — 

Why should it waken ? 
There the assassin's knife 
Stole the brave corsair's life. 
She was his plighted wife. 

By death forsaken. 





3 




A L W I L D A . 79 




She left tlie palace bright, 
Cheerless as blackened night : 
Hunnigund's princely might 

Could not discover 
That daughter, mourned as dead j 
For o'er the sea she fled, 
And the wild life she led 

Of her slain lover. 

Many years passed away : 
In song and roundelay. 
Of fair Alwilda's stay 

Spake the Norwegian ; 
Hunnigund slept in state, 
As sleep the kingly great j 
None knew his daughter's fate 

In that vast region. 

Where the loud breakers roar 
By frozen Labrador, 
Fleeting along the shore. 

Oft her ship saileth ; 
And the rude Esquimaux, 
Fearing the phantom Skaw, 
Prays she may soon withdraw, 

For his heart faileth. 

Through Bhering's narrow strip, 
Speedeth the phantom ship 
On in her ghostly trip 

Toward the North Pole , 
There Thor and Friegas dwell, 
As Norway's legends tell ; 
There ends Alwilda's spell — 

Peace to her soul ! 







89 B R Y A N D E G UI L B E A R . 



BRYAN DE aUILBEAR. 

There's nauglit but mirtli and revelry within the castle wall, 
The red wine-cup to redder lips is hfted in the hall ; 
And many a knight fills to the brim, to toast his lady fan-, 
And many a lady plights her troth in softest whisper there. 

There's mildness in the warrior's heart when woman breathes 

her love, 
It binds with adamantine chains the soul it wills to prove ; 
And two of pure and high degree within the castle shone, 
The knight, a noble true and brave — the lady, beauty's own. 

" Yet speak again, dear Adelaide, and say thy heart is mine, 
As long as earth and sea shall roll, as long as stars shall shine !" 
A tear did tremble in the eye of that high-born lady — 
" Dear Bryan, all my heart and soul have I not given thee .'" 

" But hark ! a bugle sounds to arms and calls to deeds of 

fame — 
Adieu, dear Adelaide, I go to win a warrior's name." 
His true Damascus blade unsheathed, his helmet on his brow : — 
" God's blessing with thee, dear lady, for I must leave thee now. " 

The knight to Palestine did hie to act a warrior's part. 
The bravest of the noble host, save he of lion heart ; 
And oft the Saracen appalled, to Allah breathed a prayer. 
When rose above that sea of blood the war cry Montremaire. 



* The groundwork of this ballad is from Scott's " Ivanhoe." I 
have changed tlie name from Guilbert to Guilbear, which is, I be- 
lieve, the English pronunciation. 







BRYAN DE GUILBEAR. 



81 



Some few short months have passed amain since Bryan poised 

his lance, 
And now his charger treads the hills of fair and jocund France ; 
The title-deeds of glory won seem empty as the air — 
Cabastean's lord has won the hand of Lady Montremaire ! 

No beacon light is seen to blaze upon Cabastean's tower — 
The dial of the water-clock now speaks the midnight hour ; 
When, hark ! a trumpet note afar above the storm-king's 

breath : 
And one there was who heard that note with brow like hue of 

death. 

What, ho ! an armed knight appears with long and goodly 

train ; 
" You're welcome here, Six De La Touche, thrice welcome back 



agam 



I" 



With scornful smile upon his lip he took the proffered hand — 
" Your pardon ; De La Touche I left in a far distant land." 

And many a tale the knight now told of woman's holy love, — 
As pure as gold, though thrice refined, and bound by ties above, 
And many a tear he won that night from her so fairly fair. 
The loving, not the still beloved, Adelaide Montremaire. 

A vengeance dark and terrible, such as may not here be shown. 
He took upon that lady fak whom once he deemed his own ; 
No more the war cry of La Touche was heard upon the air, 
But aU the world have read the deeds of Bryan de Gruilbear. 






82 




FLORA MACDOXALD. 



FLOEA MACDONALD. 

Scottisli hearts witli fear were failing. 

For a countless Southern horde, 
Over hills and valleys trailing, 

Put the fallen to the sword ; 
And the land a Bruce protected. 

And for which a Wallace bled. 
Seemed by fortune now neglected. 

For her bravest sons had fled. 

Who could lead them on to action ? 

Who the tide of battle turn. 
Chasing back each Southern faction. 

As did Bruce at Bannockburn ? 
Where was Charlie the Pretender, 

With his noble Northern train ? 
He had scarce a lone defender, 

All his best and bravest slain. 

Yet one loved him still sincerely, 

One with wit and beauty rare ; 
And his heart had cherished dearly 

Equal love for Flora fair. 
And when Southern sack and slaughter 

Ravaged mountain, vale, and hill, 
Proud Macdonald's blue-eyed daughter 

Thousrht of chieftain Charhe still. 

With a woman's fond devotion 
She resolved to guard his fate, 

Hers the pm'e and ti'ue emotion 
That can hearts of steel elate. 




-^^ 

-(^\ 




FLORA MACDONALD. 




83 



Darkness hung on Scotia's border, 
Black as Egypt's plague of night ; 

Love and brave Macdonald's order 
Bade her seek Loch-Lomond's height. 

There was sound of mirth and wassail 

From each Southern castle's keep, 
Answered by the Northern vassal 

With a groan from dungeon deep. 
Midnio'ht rose before the maiden 

When she left her home behind ; 
Beat her heart with sorrow laden. 

Streamed her tresses to the wind. 

O'er the moor-land hke a fairy, 

On the gentle maiden flew ; 
While her white feet, swift and airy, 

Dashed apart the midnight dew ; 
And her red lips uttered faintly 

Something like a whispered prayer ; 
As she sped on mission saintly, 

Angels envied one so fair. 

Dark Loch-Lomond rose before her 

In the folds of night arrayed ; 
Not a single star shone o'er her, 

Smiling over glen and glade. 
But she knew ere morning early 

She would find the treasured one, 
And her lone forsaken Charlie 

Lent the darkness noonday's sun. 

Soon the gentle maid grew weary. 
Though a smile shone on her face ; 





(^r( 



84 FLORA MACDONALD. 



She had passed the moorland dreary, 
Stood she by Loch-Lomond's base ; 

She did neither faint nor^ falter, 
For a halo seemed to bend 

Round her heart, as at an altar, 
When its incense doth ascend. 



Mist rolled down the gloomy mountain 

To her kirtle's fringe it hung ; 
Dew, like spray from dashing fountain, 

On her pure white forehead clung. 
Then from crag to crag she bounded. 

Daring as the hunted fawn ; 
By the darkness all surrounded. 

Pressed the lovely maiden on. 

Something seemed to rise above her, 

On a wild peak's barren crest ; 
She did not discern her lover. 

Till he clasped her to his breast. 
" God be praised that I have found thee !" 

Said the gentle maiden bright : 
" Lowland hosts, dear one, surround thee, 

You must leave the land to-night. 

" France will shield thee from all danger, 

Other hearts wiU cherish thee : 
In the welcome of the stranger. 

Royal Charlie, think of me !" 
Morning saw a vessel cleaving 

Swiftly from the Scottish shore, 
Bearing one, whose heart deceiving 

Never thought of Flora more. 







THE NORSEMEN'S PRAYER, 



85 



THE NORSEMEN'S PRAYER. 

Friegas, Thor, and mighty Odin, 
Norsemen hearts we bend to thee ! 

Steer our barks, all potent Wodin, 
O'er the surging Baltic Sea — 

BUlows flashing, onward dashing. 

Of old Ocean always master. 

When our chosen ships saU forth, 

Hurl the tempest fast and faster 
From the ice-peaks of the North — 

Sails are straining, we are gaining. 

Shield us, Eric, sage varinger, 

While Hardrada chaunts his rnymes ; 

Never trilled such master-singer, 
Since the bygone Runic times — ■ 

Thus preparing hearts of daring. 

By the swords our fathers wielded 
Bravely in the Danish wars. 

By the land we long have shielded. 

Bought with Norsemen blood and scars, 

Earth shall tremble at our symbol ! 

Hella, guard the noble raven* 
Floating o'er our gallant crew ; 

Where none ever play the craven, 
Each, unfearing, welcomes you. 

Untn then, God's amen ! 

* The raven was the device of the Norsemen's flaa;. 





86 THE MERRY DAYS OF ENGLAND 




THE MERRY DAYS OF ENGLAND. 

In my ctamber dimly lighted, half the night had stole away, 
With my silent thoughts communing over Nature's flood and 

fray; 
And a prisoner they led me back to men of feudal times. 
To cleanse their armor, rusted with the blood of many crimes. 

Like ghostly forms uncertain, they stole into my room, 
Shapeless shadows, seeming mistlike thi'ough the melancholy 

gloom ; 
Marching in so still and solemn, with a calm and noiseless 

tread, 
As only march the spirits of the unawakened dead. 

And they congealed in my presence with a strange uncouth 

device. 
As the snowflakes' feathery lightness congealeth into ice ; 
Till they stood in relief boldly, warriors of the iron age. 
Warriors of those days departed, living still in history's page. 
vnvrwn 

Jean Froissart, calm, majestic, with his manuscripts so rare. 
By the precedence of favor took my sole deserted chair ; 
I beheld the Saxon, Harold, as on Hasting's bloody field — 
Saw the blue-eyed Norman, Wilham, with his antique sword 

and shield. 

Saw King Stephen suing friendship with the barons of the land. 
Yielding up the forest charter granted by King Rufus' hand ; 
Saw Richard Coeur De Lion lead the Syrian crusade, 
Saw the sword he swung, two-handed, cleave Saladin's trusty 
blade. 




3 



s^-i 




^(f?-^ 



THE MERRY DAYS OF ENGLAND. 87 

Heard the gentle minstrels trilling merry roundelay and tale, 
While they filled their horn-cups often from the foaming tank 

of ale : 
Saw the weak King Edward weeping in his lonely prison walls, 
And his moans seemed mournful echoes to the seneschal's foot- 

faUs. 

Saw Robin Hood, the outlaw, with his merry archers true, 
And their clothyard shafts seemed fitting for the bow of Galium 

Dhu:* 
Saw the Jewish maid, Rebecca, fling her ^-age to Judah's foe ; 
Heard the heralds crying " largesse" at the field of Temple- 

stowe. 

Saw Cade, the Kentish bondsman, ride the prince's host 

among ; 
As a hammer rings on anvil, his sword on amor rung : 
Saw the knight, Sir Thomas Wyatt, as a traitor brought to die ; 
Saw the dark-browed chirurgeon, and the headsman standing 

by. 

Heard Cromwell shouting, " Spare not ! to the Lord of Hosts 

now sing ! " 
Saw the bloody axe that quivered over Charles, the martyr 

king: 
Saw the hounds and coal-black charger of the demon hunter 

Heme, 
As they coursed through Windsor Forest, over brier, brake, 

and fern. 

I beheld fair Anne Boleyn led unto the fatal block, 
Like a hart struck by the hunter, waiting for the fearful 
shock ; 

* A Highland chieftain — no other man could bend his bow. 




=^ 







88 J A X O F A R C . 

Saw bluff and bloody Harry breatliing love to Jane Seymoui- — 
She should be bis loYing consort, by God's death ! the oath he 
swore. 

Thus in fancy's fair dominion, passed the lonesome night along, 
Like the quaint and curious rhythm of some good old poet's 

song: 
In the bright East's golden chamber, rose the glowing orb of 

day, 
And the ghosts of days departed vanished mom'nfully away. 



JOAN OF AKC. 

Her eye was dark as winter's night. 
The soul within reflected light ; 
With footsteps free as eagle's flight, 

She waved her banner high ; 
Her dark hair trembled in the breeze, 
Like ripples over tropic seas. 
Or sunlight flashing through the trees, 

When autumn winds sweep by. 

The bright sun set in robes of gold : 
Stood by her side each baron bold, 
While through the ranks an echo rolled- 

" My merry men, fight on ! 
For Charles's cause is true and just, 
Our foemen's swords that cause will rust- 
In God alone we put our trust, 

For brighter days to dawn !" 




:SI 




AGRIPPA's INIIRROR 




89 



Their ranks gave way, tlie foemen fled, 
Their bravest numbered with the dead ; 
A banquet for the raven spread, 

To thrilling fancy gleams ; 
Sad was thy fate, thou peerless maid ! 
A day of sun-light, years of shade — 
To England's cruel hosts betrayed, 

By him thou crown'dst at Rheims, 



AGRIPPA'S MIRROR.* 

A LEGEND OF THE PAST. 

The sun proclaimed the hour of noon, 

The sky was all serene ; 
It was a day in smiling June, 

When fields are clothed in green. 
The winds were tripping midst the trees, 
While white clouds skimmed the Pyrenees, 

Beyond the landscape seen. 

A Grerman castle, dark and old, 

Arose to greet the view ; 
Its walls seemed heavy, bleak, and cold, 

And few its tenant knew. 



* Among the many stories relating to tlie Wandering Jew, the 
German Legend, from which this Ballad is taken, must certainly 
be considered one of the most beautiful and touching. The cursed 
Israelite, according to tradition, does not stand alone in his terri- 
ble doom: some old writers tell us that the daughter of Herod is 
also compelled to wander till the end of time for her heartless re- 
quest, to have the Baptist's head in a charger. 






90 




agrippa's mirror 



Its founder fell in lioly land, 
Long, long before ; a Moslem hand 
Its loyal owner slew. 

There was no archer in the keep. 

Nor trusty warder's care ; 
The ditch was stagnant, black, and deep : 

Agrippa sojoui-ned there — 
A Rosicrucian, who. 'twas said. 
Could charm the fiends, or raise the dead, 

With forms they used to wear. 

And there were tales of wonder rife 
Through all the hamlets near ; 

That he had purchased years of life. 
And paid a price too dear. 

His face was calm, he seldom smiled ; 

He spake in accents sweet and mild — 
None saw him shed a tear. 

* 

A mystery — and wide the range 

His mighty fame had spread. 
He lono; had owned a mirror strange. 

That showed the buried dead. 
A silver wand, waved in his hand, 
Would call them back from spirit-land, 

Waved once for each year fled. 




And on this day a stranger came. 

To hear Agrippa's lore — 
A fearful man whom none could name, 

From Asia's distant shore. 





agrippa's mirror 



91 




It was the mighty mirror's art 
Alone could soothe his cheerless heart, 
And show his child once more. 

The scholar, with a secret dread 

Gazed on his fearful guest. 
" How many years has she been dead ? 

This wand shall break her rest — 
I wave it once for every year." 
Then first he saw a single tear 

The stranger's eyehd pressed. 

" Begin thine art : I cannot store 

Their number, gentle host." 
Agrippa waved to full fourscore — 

The mirror's charm seemed lost. 
He said, " Hast thou my art defied P^ 
^' Wave on ! Wave on !" the guest replied ; 

" I'll pay thee princely cost !" 

He waved ; twelve hundred years rolled by ; 

And then a scene shone there ; 
Beneath a calm blue summer's sky 

Reposed a maiden fair. 
The strano-er knew his daughter's face. 
He rushed to take a fond embrace — 

Too late — the glass was bare 

" Who art thou, man ?" Agrippa said ; 

" Art thou a Christian true ? 
Thy presence makes my heart afraid — 

I never feared but you." 
The stranger said, " I'll tell thee now — 
The curse of Cain is on my brow — 

I am the Wandering Jew !" 






92 




ROSALINE 



KOSALINE 



A (BALLAD. 



Jerusalem beleagured lay 

By the Christians' lion king. 
'Twas eventide, and that fearful day 

Had a true blood offering ; 
For the Saracen a battle lost, 

And the Christian a battle won ; 
Though neither knew of the dreadful cost. 

When the weary day was done. 

The Christian camp lay far and wide, 

Like sails upon the sea, 
Each tent a beacon on the tide 

Of glorious chivalry. 
And the chirurgeon knelt among 

The wounded and the slain ; 
And the monk his solemn Ave sung 

For those bereft of pain. 

The crusaders in their armor slept ; 

And they dreamed of a dearer soil, 
And thoughts of home o'er the dreamers crept 

Ere they joined in the dark turmoil. 
The Norseman whose first youth was passed 

By the Maelstrom's awful whhl. 
Returned to his own dear home at last. 

And a fair Norwegian girl. 



And the noble Switzer sought his cot, 
Where the avalanche rolled by ; 






ROSALINE. 



93 



He saw it pass, yet he feared it not — 

'Twas a glorious death to die ! 
For his lips were parched with the sirocco, 

And he clutched at the icy halm ; 
He grasped it oft, but the frozen snow 

Dissolved in his burning palm. 

And there was a brave young Norman knight. 

Of Richard's chosen band, 
Who tore himself from a lady bright. 

When he left fair England's land : 
Oh ! those were rare and happy days 

That through his vision twine, 
When the minstrels chanted roundelays 

To blue-eyed Rosaline. 

Her voice seemed like some lovelv birds 

Among the trees and flowers ; 
Upon the music of her words 

He oft had lingered hours. 
Her eyes were like the liquid blue 

That mortals love to gaze upon, 
She had a heart as fair and true 
As ever valiant Norman won 

A fair young boy stood by his side. 

The sleeper's chosen guest ; 
It seemed to be the stnp]ino;'s pride 

To guard his peaceful rest. 
The knight had loved him as a child — 

He often thought him something more ; 
His tale, indeed, was sad and wild ; 

He came alone from England's shore 







94 



ROSALINE. 



The good knight breathed the name he loved, 

In every land his dearest prize ; 
And, lo ! the page seemed wondi-ous moved 

The tears were standing in his eyes. 
The knight oft told the page of her, 

And still the tale was never done ; 
He found so fond a worshipper, 

The page scarce thought the tale begun. 

But now the morn breaks o'er the camp ; 

Saladin's host appears in view, 
And, hark ! the Saracens' low tramp, 

Like distant thunder, cleaves the blue. 
" What ho ! sir page," said Lionel, 

You waked me not, and morning gleams." 
He said, " I could not break the spell — 

You spake of Rosaline in dreams." 

" Nay, then I pardon thee, fair boy ! 

My second treasure still thou art ; 
And may this day be one of joy, 

To Richard of the lion heart !" 
He vaulted on his coal-black steed, 

His sword on many a Paynim fell ! 
And still the faithful page, at need, 

Was ever near Sir Lionel. 

A javelin, launched from Moslem hand, 

Sped swiftly towards the goodly knight — 
The faithful boy the distance spanned, 

And bravely stopped it in its flight : 
" God's blessings on thee, page of mine ! 

This was a fearful boon to pay — " 
He clave the Moslem to the chine, 

And bore the bleeding boy away. 






THE SPECTRES 



WORSHIP 




95 



He bore him to a runnino' stream. 

And bathed his lips all steeped in gore ; 
He bade him think of home — a dream — 

He ne'er would see fair England more. 
" And must I take a sad farewell ? 

Ah, dearest page, why rush between ?" 
She said, " To save thee, Lionel : 

I am thy dying Rosaline !" 



THE SPECTRES' WORSHIP 

In a dark and solemn valley, 

By the castle-girded Rhine, 
Fearful spectres often rally. 

And with earthly things combine. 
When night's darkest hour is tolling, 

Comes this strange and awful crew, 
When the stars are westward rolling. 

Through the deep unfathomed blue. 




Gather they in countless numbers, 

Grhosts of long-forgotten times. 
Wakening oft the peasant's slumbers 

With their strange old Runic rhymes ; 
And the winds and waters porous 

Drink the burthen of the song ; 
For the strange, unearthly chorus 

Echoes through the valley long. 





96 





THE SPECTRES 



WORSHIP 



At an altar, spared by edict 

Of the miglity Charlemagne, 
Ghost of Norsemen, Celt, and Pict, 

Pause and murmur prayers again ; 
Prayers taught hy their Druid masters, 

Supplications unto Thor, 
That he'd free them from disasters, 

Make them vahant still in war. 

There's a mouldering Gothic tower, 

Where they meet, and revel hold, 
Breathing tales of wealth and power — 

Tales of Scandinavia old ; 
Talking of the long past only. 

Till the dawn of morning gray, 
And the valley seems less lonely 

When they vanish all away. 



:IW 





THE MECHANICS OF AMERICA 



97 



SONGS OF LABOR. 



THE MECHANICS OF AMERICA. 

A song unto our working men, the artisans of old, 

The heart of young America, more precious than its gold ; 

To guard the sod a freeman's Grod still cherishes the best, 

The home for which our sires bled — the proud land of the west. 
mm 

Hurrah for North America, from Mexico to Maine ! 

Hurrah for every son of toil who joins in Freedom's train ! 

And may each band join heart and hand to bear our glories on, 

Untn we own the prairie land of fertile Oregon.* 

Come ! strike the iron while 'tis hot, and let the bellows roar ! 
The blacksmiths are a goodly crew to guard Columbia's shore. 
Their hammers swing, their anvils ring, there's nerve in every 

blow — 
Proud scions of old Tubal Cain, six thousand years ago. 

Ho Carpenters, right noble men, an honour to our land ! 
On shore and main the good jack plane seems ever to com- 
mand : 



* This poem was written before the settlement of the Oregon 
question. 






98 THEFARMERS, 




And Ferdinand bright glories planned — 'twas given by your toil, 
When first the Spaniards' banner soar'd above Gruanahani's soil. 

Machinists too, great Hiero's sons, may lead the merry van, 
For Russia's mighty autocrat seeks out Columbia's plan : 
Old England's hmi'd by western world from off her throne of 

pride, 
And Pennsylvania wins her fame, forever there to bide. 

Success to North America ! the mandate goeth forth, 
From Florida's dark everglades unto the frozen north ; 
The tocsin peel that freemen feel, while onward is their aim, 
Is for their country's weal or woe, for noble honour's name. 

Then let the toast go freely round — " Here's to our craftsmen 

bold, 
The heart of young America, more precious than its gold ! 
To guard the sod that freedom's Grod still cherishes the best, 
The home for which our sires bled — the proud land of the west. 



THE FARMERS. 

Toilers for the golden grain, 

Wielders of the scythe and sickle, 
Ye the richest treasure gain. 

Though the world be false and fickle. 
Alchemists, the soil distilling. 

You the true Eureka hold ; 
For the heart and spade that's willing, 

Never sought for brighter gold. 






THE FARMERS. 




99 



Swing the flail with iron sinew, 

O'er the burnished sheaves apart ; 
Then fill up the cleansing winnow, 

Ye who cheer the famished heart 
Lo ! a voice steals o'er the waters. 

From oppression's barren strand — 
'^ Send, Oh ! send our sons and daughters 

Treasure from your gifted land." 

Where the lofty pine is growing. 

In the northern wilds of Maine ; 
Where the Mississippi's flowing 

Through a vast and fertile plain ; 
There the plowshare turns the fallow, 

There the cradle's burthen falls ; 
While the farmers' joyous hallo 

Wakes a thousand echoed calls. 

Noble men of noble nation, 

None can claim a brighter birth ; 
Who can find a richer station. 

Than a tiller of the earth ? 
Cincinnatus lives in story. 

He the path of honor won ; 
And another dwells in glory— 

Grreat, immortal, Washington ! 



r^. 




C 





100 



THE PRINTERS. 




THE PRINTERS. 

Hm-rah for nature's moblemen, 

The artists of the mind ! 
Hail, wielders of the mighty pen, 

With every glory twined ! 
Where thought soars freely to its God, 

Unshackled as he gave it ; 
And freemen rule o'er freedom's sod, 

As freemen long will have it. 

Roll back the veil of many years, 

The iron age just broken ; 
The spirit of a Faust appears. 

To find out freedom's token. 
A Grerman, still unknown to fame, 

Made Europe's wise men wonder ; 
As he who holds a dearer name 

Drew down the living thunder. 

'Tis yours the mighty past to solve 

The records of all ages ; 
And still, like brilliant suns, revolve 

Around the future's pages. 
You whispered to Genoa's son 

A deed that seemed gigantic ; 
And he a world of glory won. 

Across the broad Atlantic. 




'Tis yours to wake the Russian slave, 
To rouse the noble German ; 

To tell Hibernia she is brave, 
Down trod by England's firmen ; 





IRON 




101 



To breathe the records of the past 
To men of heart and daring, 

When Borihme threw to the blast 
A banner worth the bearing. 

Pale Europe still must paler grow, 

Her heartstrings now are breaking ; 
And here her blood-drops freely flow, 

Oppression's soU forsaking. 
They flow to water our fair tree, 

And from it ne'er to sever ; 
A health to Franklin — Liberty — 

And freedom's press forever ! 



IRON. 

Thoughts sublime my soul environ, 

Sparks from God's electric fires ! 
Rouse ye noble sons of iron ; 

Build up pyramidal pyres. 
Over darkness, from yom^ anvils. 

Flash incessant gleams of light ; 
As the stars in mighty phalanx 

Brave the front of wizard Night. 
Sons of science, working wonders ! 

Deity's galvanic train 
Echoes still the pealing thunders, 

From the forge of Tubal Cain. 





Yii)- 



^ 

■'{r^ 



102 IRON 




From Old Etna's boiling rivers, 

Where the molten lava roars ; ^ 

Where the enchained earthquake quivers, 

'Neath the far off bright Azores : 
Frozen Hecla's red bitumen, 

Chimborazo's fount of flame — 
Alchemists of countless ages 

Toil for Iron's primal fame. 
There the world's proud, pampered Lazars, 

See redemption from the thrall : 
As a host of pale Belshazzars 

Read their mandate on the wall. 

Ere the date of Light's dominions. 

In eternal archives kept — 
When Elohim's shrouded pinions 

Through the waves of blackness swept ; 
Rose the base of every fossil 

From chaotic darkness hurled, 
When the shades of night unfathomed 

Forged the heart-strings of a world. 
As the Syracusan's lever 

Might have rocked our system vast. 
Trembled Iron's heart forever. 

Through the pulses of the past. 

As the rude barbaric spoilers 

Let the walls of Petrse stand, 
Where the great Etruscan toilers 

Through the gnth of science spanned — 
Shall the workers of the present 

Leave their monuments to Time, 
As the architects of Egypt 

Reared the pyramids sublime. 






N- — 



IRON 



103 



Theirs the wealth of Spartan sages — 
Coin the wise Lycurgus wrought ; 

And the future's mighty pages 
Shall redeem the sons of thought. 

Shall the shade of Hiero mingle 

With the dust of ages flown ? 
Or the Syracusan single 

Curb the vein of thought alone ? 
Ye are workers like Wat Tyler, 

In the Iron Time of old ; 
Though his autograph is written 

In the future's age of gold. , 
Think ye still of Faust, the Grerman, 

Of a Fulton's high renown : 
Know ye Franklin, with Grod's firman, 

Drew the living lightning down. 

Keep your kindled fires burning. 

Let your motto still be on ; 
Till the world from darkness ftirning. 

Sees the sun of science dawn. 
Stand ye firm like Martin Luther, 

Fall as John the Baptist fell — 
From the anvils of your brothers 

Shall ring forth a mighty knelh 
Let your hearts beat high desires. 

Be ye rulers of the sod : 
As the telegraphic wires 

Feel the pulse of nature's Cod. 

Let your thoughts soar up. Titanic ; 
Let your beacons shine afar — 




104 THE BUTCHERS, 




As the Universe Mechanic 

Still is building star on star. 
Claim the spirit of Elijah's 

From Elisha's gone before, 
Till the Deity supernal 

Yields to science double store. 
Free from bias and dissension, 

Ye shall win the brilliant prize ; 
And the world by your redemption, 

Wheel a golden Paradise ! 



THE BUTCHERS. 

A song for old Bear Market, 

And the craftsmen there who tend, 
Shall be the poet's target, 

Whije fancy's bow we bend. 
Like a loyal brave defender. 

With its cherished host we'll join ; 
For their hearts are true and tender 

As their juicy red sirloin. 

There stands each faithful sentry, 

Dealing ever fair and just ; 
Like Egypt's store of plenty, 

When Prince Joseph held his trust. 
Though thy market's architecture 

May not rival Pharaoh's hall, 
Each is king, beyond conjecture. 

O'er his pure and spotless stall. 

it == §f 




THE BUTCHERS, 



We have read in Froissart's pages 

Of thy craft in days of yore ; 
And the wealth of future ages 

Will retain their deeds in store. 
When thy clan's well-guarded banner 

Made the haughty foe repent, 
And the lords of j&ef and manor 

Craved their audience at Ghent. 

For you fair Orange County 

Keaps the golden-bearded grain ; 
For you the northland's bounty 

Keeps her harvest fields in train ; 
For you the swart mechanic 

Plies the bellows at his forge ; 
For you the soil organic 

Must its store of wealth disgorge. 

For you the hardy Grerman 

Ploughs the prairie's fertile soil ; 
For you great Nature's firman 

Cheers the weary sons of toil ; 
For you a thousand barges 

Stem the Hudson's silver tide ; 
And your kingdom stUl enlarges, 

With your commerce, far and wide. 

Then let every one endeavor 

To guard thy fair renown ; 
May old Bear Market ever 

Be the pride of New York town ! 
From the ashes of its glory, 

When its form in ruin lies, 
Like the phoenix of old story. 

May a new Bear Market rise ! 



''JU 



105 



«^\ 






106 



THE CARPENTERS. 




THE CAEPENTERS. 

A welcome to each noble hand 

That swings the good jack-plane ! 
Kight loyal sons of freedom's land, 

Upon the shore or main. 
Where broad-axe shatters western oak, 

Or cleaves the northern pine ; 
From Maine we hear its ringing stroke, 

To California's mine. 

Wherever commerce needs a bark. 

The foremost in the van, 
To trim the mast from forest dark. 

Or build the home of man ; 
To smooth the rough and knotted plank. 

Torn by the saw apart, 
Yom- noble craft the first must rank, 

Superior in art. 

For you the woodman's hardy craft 

The trusty broad-axe swings ; 
For you the lumberman's wide raft 

Its freio-ht to market brino-s ; 
That burthen, with your noble aid. 

Builds palaces or cot, 
As monuments to show your trade 

Can never be forgot. 

Your stream of art is never dry — 

Its waters still increase ; 
Be yours the land and sunny sky 

That knoweth naught but peace ! 









THE CARPENTERS 



107 



Like tablets reared to Egypt's kings, 
To mark their reigns of old, 

Your craft the might of science brings, 
More pure than Ophir's gold. 

A health to every arm of nerve 

That beds the spike or nail ! 
As they in fastness never swerve, 

May thy brave craft prevail ! 
And lonff as Freedom's flao; 'shall float 

Upon the land or sea, 
Columbia's commerce will denote 

A welcome still to thee ! 



AVS) 





108 



/t^ 



THE PLAY OF LIFE 



OCCASIONAL PIECES. 



THE PLAY OF LIFE. 

A NEW year's address WRITTEN FOR THE NEW YORK 
LITERARY AMERICAN. 

Lo ! an epoch of ages in gladness appears, 

With a harvest of smiles, and a famine of tears, 

As melody falters when angels pass by. 

And their silver-plumed pinions illumine the sky, 

An anthem is ringing that echoes on high — 

" The New Year is horn, and the Old Year must die !" 

Like wind when it whispers, 
Unshrouded, unstruno- ; 

7 7 

Like low-thrilling vespers 

On cloister bell rung ; 
The lofty cathedral 

Ke-echoes them o'er, 
Till voices unreal 

Wake each corridor. 
The answer's from angels, 

Who listen above, 
When evening evangels 

Are breathing God's love. 
Though hid from our vision. 

Their love's not suppressed ; 
In bright dreams elysian, 

They lull us to rest. 



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A 




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r^. 



THE PLAY OF LIFE. 



109 



On eternity's dark ocean, see ! a bark of light appears, 
And Time, the hoary helmsman, to our orbit bravely steers. 
Her name is " Happy New Year ;" we have seen her oft 

before ; 
With her store of smiles well-laden, we will welcome her once 

more. 

Welcome to our favorea planet, as the flowers of the spring ! 
Speak, seneschal of ages ! what good tidings dost thou bring ? 
Thou hast watched the world's existence, through its battles 

and its strife — 
Come, read an act unto us in the brilliant play of life. 

Let the ghosts of days departed bear the old year far away. 
Hark ! the midnight bell is chiming — hoist the curtain — view 

the play : 
Let the heart be silent prompter, while the scenes are carried 

through ; 
The plot is, " Do to others as you'd have them do to you." 

There's a queen within her palace, stately dame of noble line ; 
Heart of Norman, blood of Saxon, in her person both combine ; 
Noble lords are standing round her, gentle ladies, too, are near, 
SmiHng on the child of fortune, wishing her a happy year. 

Costly viands cheat the palates of the rich and dainty throng ; 
How the merry wine-cup sparkles, as they toast the brilliant 

song! 
Would not toiling millions suffer to support a lordly few. 
Could they hear a Duke of iron drink a health to Waterloo ? 

Now the merry scene has shifted ; yonder stands a cottage poor. 
And an artisan, God's image, has just entered at its door ; 






110 THE PLAY OF LIFE. 

Lost in rank and caste for ages, all through mammon's dread 

turmoil — 
Is Grod's bright heaven builded for the weary sons of toil ? 

And his patient wife still greets him with the kiss of olden 

times, 
"When he kindly bids her listen to the happy New Year's 

chimes ; 
Thouo-h her heart seems sad within her, for the visions still 

abide 
Of the time he wooed and won her, to be a poor man's bride. 

Now the cottage poor has vanished ; yonder looms a city's 

towers ; 
Happy New Year holds dominion, merry passeth fleeting hours. 
Hearts are beating friendship's music ; 'tis the golden age of 

time, 
In the sunshine of its gladness we will seek the haunts of crime, 
qhi^i^o 

Where never light the angels, where eternal sorrow reigns, 
And misery grows darker till the fiend his tribute gains ; 
Where life's bright dream ne'er wakens from childhood to the 

bier. 
Where every fount of mercy fails to yield a tribute tear ; 

In a hovel dark and dreary, see, a famished woman weeps ! 
Sad remembrance now awakened, to its bosom sorrow creeps. 
For the chimes of New Year, ringing, tell a tale that's often 

told 
Of youth and virtue fading 'neath the subtle chimes of gold. 

We have read a tale of wonder, dreadful in its weight of woe ; 
How one, accursed forever, wandered, peaceless, to and fro : 
Time wrote no tablet on him — his was a doom to hve, 
Till One whose second coming might his fearful crime forgive. 



THE PLAY OF LIFE. Ill 

How he came to one Agrippa, who was learned in Egypt's 

lore, 
To seek a magic mirror in the gi-eat magician's store ; 
He would see his child as living — 'twas the phantom of a brain 
Where minutes seemed long ages in their dark unending train. 

Leave the chronicles of ages ; turn we to the play of life ; 
See a girl with virtue faded ere she became a wife ; 
Next, a thing of shame and sorrow, in the mockery of mirth. 
Marching onward, ever onward, with the fallen ones of earth. 

Next she becomes a mother, every thought of virtue's fled ; 
The mother's old, forsaken, and the daughter earns their bread. 
Stop, Time ! thy play's a falsehood — Nay, see the vision 

through — 
The plot is "Do to others as you'd have them do to you !" 

Let these dreary visions vanish ; happy New Year holds its 

sway ; 
The fair soil of Columbia may not know a brighter day ; 
For the shade of godhke Washington still hngers near it yet. 
Linked with the kindred spirit of the noble Lafayette. 

Happy New Year, shade of Franklin, Columbia's son of skill I 
Ho ! craftsmen brave and noble, do not your pulses thrill ? 
He wiU live in after ages, and the lightning of his fame 
Will chain the living thunder round his ever-honored name. 

Happy New Year, proud mechanic ! thy name will noble be, 
While He, the great Mechanic, builds upon eternity. 
Like a model of His greatness, keeping true thy mighty trust, 
Swing the broad-axe, clang the hammer, let the jack-plane 
never rust ! 





112 THEPLAYOFLIFE. 



Happy New Year to our merchants ! they have barques upon 

the sea, 
And the flag that's floating o'er them is the banner of the free. 
May the genius of Freedom hold the valiant planet Mars, 
To guard our soil for ages, through the banner of the stars ! 



Happy New Year to our patrons ! may their fortunes stiU in- 
crease ; 

May each art and science flourish 'neath the sunny smiles of 
peace. 

When the tombs of Pharaohs mingle with the dust within 
them laid, 

May Columbia fairer flourish, mistress of the world in trade ! 

Adieu, my kind patrons ! 

Life's story is told ; 
May your wives and your matrons 

Its pleasures behold. 
May each sister and brother 
• All happiness know. 
And cheer one another 
While dwelling below ; 
May the flowers of kindness around you appear ! 
Adieu ! may Grod bless you ! a happy New Year ! 

Jan. 1, 1849. 







vC 



THE actor's fate. 




113 



THE ACTOR'S FATE. 



Ye who love tlie brig-ht creation 

O 

Of the artist and the bard — 
Ye who deem the actor's station 

One of pleasure and reward, 
Think it not ; mechanic labor 

Always finds a richer yield ; 
Better use the axe or sabre, 

Better plough the harvest field. 

Toiling for the bright ideal 

That a thousand hearts expect, 
Never grasping for the real, 

Till the barque of life is wrecked :- 
Ye who think the stage a palace. 

Yielding joy and princely gains, 
Little know the bitter chalice 

Oft the weary actor drains. 

King at night, in ermine splendid. 

From the green-room to the stage ; 
But too soon the play is ended, 

Then is read the truer page : 
Seek him in his chamber lonely, 

Poring o'er to-morrow's part. 
Wearing smiles in public only, 

Where men never read the heart. 

In the present ever-haunted, 
Poverty to check his aim ; 

By some favorite supplanted, 
In the weary path to fame : 










114 



ALLITERATIVE ACROSTIC. 




Till, like thousands gone before him, 
Death usurps his brilliant prize ; 

And some friendly hand marks o'er him, 
" Here a brother actor lies !" 



ALLITERATIVE ACROSTIC. 

Let Liberty, life's license, loosen light's lamented lyre ! 

In Innisfail, immortal, impoverished, in ire. 

Be bold ; by Boyne be brilliant ; by Banna's banks be brave ! 

E'en Erin's early errors Erin's earnest ends enslave. 

Roused royalty rules Russia, red regal riot reigns ; 

There truth's triumphant treasure touches thrilling thunder 

trains. 
Yom' yeomen yielded yearly, yet your yeomen yielding yearn ; 

They think to toil together, their thraldom tide to turn. 
Onward, oasis of ocean, oblivion outshine ! 

Ere Erin ends endeavor, every early end entwine, 
Religion's rights respected, repealing role reclaimed 
It is Ireland, inflicted, impoverished, inflamed ! 
Noble Nation, now neglecting nothing named. 






:^i 







HENRY CLAY 



115 



HENKY CLAY. 

When Wisdom trembled down from Heaven's throne, 
Thy name stood out in bold relief, alone : 
She sought a home for thee on Freedom's sod, 
Where man bends only to the Monarch Grod, 

Statesman profound as he whose glory shines, 
Pure as the gem from rich Golconda's mines — 
Two stars of light in equal orbits play. 
Past Washington, and present Henry Clay. 

As noble Franklin lives in history's page, 
Thy name is written for each future age : 
Time steers thy bark from fair Columbia's shore, 
To sail on memory's ocean evermore. 

Firm in the right, our country's sword and shield. 
Sage in the Senate, freedom's battle field : 
A brain to solve a nation's weal or woe — 
A heart like Brutus, tongue like Cicero ! 

Child of the land where noble hearts belong. 
To fill the measure of a freeman's song, 
'T would take a volume half thy worth to teU, 
With every word an echo — Fare-thee-well ! 

The tide of years wiU onward ebb and flow. 
Spring time and harvest, each shall come and go ; 
But in the future thy bright name is seen, 
An oasis, all spotless, ever green ! 








116 AJENNY LIND SOXG. 






A JENNY LIND SONG. 

To tlie land of Columbia a lone bird has fluttered ; 

Her heartstrings are tuned, mtli the bope to prevail ; 

She wiU sing the pure songs that her mountain streams uttered, 

When melody paused on the wings of the gale ; 

With the same stars above her that shone over Sweden, 

The same smiles to welcome a home in each breast ; 

As the nightingale sang the sweet vespers of Eden, 

And lulled jour proud emblem, the eagle, to rest. 

All hail to the land where fair freedom's dawn lingers. 
The sun of its noonday with glory unbars ; 
Where Eve strews the twihght with rosy-tipped fingers, 
And Midnight unfurls the proud flag of the stars ! 
Though far from my own native Sweden, a stranger, 
My heart without compass, my bark without sail. 
That flag is my shield from the breakers of danger — 
Columbia, I love thee ! Columbia, all hail ! 

All hail to the land where the bright spirits o'er us. 
Look down on the banner that Freedom unfurled ; 
While angels are tuning their harp-strings to chorus 
When Liberty's rainbow encircles the world. 
Its golden cup, told of in childhood's bright story, 
Gro seek at Mount Vernon, and find without fail : 
Then millions will quafi" its pure nectar of glory. 
And shout the hosanna — " Columbia, aU hail !" 







THE DEPARTED. 117 



THE DEPARTED. 

They speak of bright hours held for me in trust ; 
Mine, like a fabric, have crumbled to dust. 
Where is the flower that bright to me seems, 
Blooming alone in the garden of dreams } 
Welcome the night time that brings to my side 
Thee, my departed and beautiful bride ! 

Then the pure pleasure that wakens my heart, 

Painter or poet could never impart ; 

Grazing upon me with beauty divine. 

Till thy bright image seems mingled with mine, 

Lulhng each storm over memory's tide — 

Thou, my departed and beautiful bride ! 

Then with affection she whispers to me, 

" Husband, there's welcome in heaven for thee !" 

Softly her lips yield the token of love ; 

Then she departs to the angels above. 

Would thy bright image could ever abide — 

Thee, my departed, my beautiful bride ! 

How can the heart that is breaking forget, 

Now the star that was brightest forever hath set ? 

Lighting my pathway of life for the best. 

Peerless it sank in an unclouded west. 

Hope and affection together have died. 

With thee, my only and beautiful bride ! 






Vig) — 

118 THE actor's appeal 




THE ACTOR'S APPEAL. 

Hail, Bard of Avon ! star that ages sought, 

To lend ideal rays to wizard thought. 

Thy rainbow glory spans the brow of Time, 

And in the future echoes God sublime ; 

It peals, like thunder, from thy spirit car ; 

Or fades, like tinkling bells, heard from afar ; 

As falls the cataract from Alpine snows ; 

Or else, like streamlets, faint and fainter flows. 

Did Grod, the architect of thought divine, 
Build his bright jewels for a hidden mine } 
As well the sun in our fair systems core 
Withhold its rays of light forever more. 
The master pen will cease to play its part, 
When fades a Kean or Edwin Forrest's art ; 
Grreat Homer's lore the scholar may enjoy. 
But soon 'twill fall, as fell the gates of Troy. 

Extinguish every beauty of the pen. 
An iron a2;e will rule the world again ; 
An age that Scott with master pencil drew, 
When feudal lord scarce read his primer through. 
Then Bulwer, Byron, even Shakspeare's self 
Will rot in dust on antiquary's shelf ; 
As Moslem horde rang Alexandria's kneU, 
And buried truth forever in the well. 

An actor pleads for Shakspeare's truthful cause. 
As genii bent to Solomon's great laws ; 

^= === =^f 




' c^ 



THREE PORTRAITS. 119 

The houseless Arabs o'er the desert span 
And breathe this lore to tinkling caravan ; 
That mind and manners make the man is true, 
Where Vktue's prompter, Honor is the cue. 
When death rings down, we trust that every heart 
Will echo kindly — " He has played his part." 



THREE PORTRAITS. 

When the bright sun sets in the western skies, 
And the silver clouds on the moonbeams rise, 
Then I walk the fields of the past alone. 
And I dream of the hours forever flown ; 
Those golden hours that all are past, 
Like leaves when strewn by the autumn blast ; 
And, maiden fair, if you list to me, 
One of these dreams I wiH tell to thee. 

I knew three girls, three lovely girls ; 
They were fairy things, like eastern pearls. 
Fnst Anna came with her brow of light. 
And a form as fair as a peri bright ; 
And her cherry lips wore a thousand smiles, 
Like flowers that bloom in the ocean isles ; 
jind her dark hair trembled upon the breeze. 
As ripples float o'er the soundless seas. 

But Mary, she was a maiden true, 
With golden hair and an eye of blue. 
And her brow was white as the snowy crest, 
Of the billow's foam on the ocean's breast ! 





120 




EPITAPH 



Oh, hers was a form in itself apart 

For the poet's pen, or the sculptor's art ; 

And her name was breathed in the land of rhyme, 

Like rays from the evening star sublime. 

Of these bright ones I am now bereft, 
But a treasure dear to my heart is left ; 
And her smiles are free as the winds that cling 
To the silver plumes of an angel's wing. 
And I won a gem when she said, " I'm thine," 
That was richer far than Potosi's mine. 
Thus ends the dream of the maidens three, 
That will seem like a fairy tale to thee. 



EPITAPH 

ON MRS. SOPHIA THOMAS AND DANIEL OWENS THOMAS. 

From the garden of Heaven above, 

God sought a fair flower apart. 
So He sent the bright angel of Love, 

Who culled the pure one from my heart. 
But in taking the long-treasured gem, 

A bud grafted near caught his sight ; 
So he broke not the beautiful stem, 

But bore loth to bowers of light. 





vC 




THE WASHINGTON MONUMENT 



121 



THE WASHINGTON MONUMENT. 

Like Belus, pride of Babylon's great empire, 
The storm-clouds shall adorn thy lofty spire. 
Grreat Cheops builded tombs for countless kings, 
But freemen rear thy dome for noble things ; 
Empires shall fade, but while the world wheels on, 
The heart of time will beat for Washington. 

A name so fair on Liberty's bright page. 
Another such might build the golden age ; 
Like him who woke the bard of Avon's strain. 
We ne'er shall look upon his like again. 
Rear high the dome, fear not the whirlwind's blast, 
For GrOD will safely guide his lightnings past. 

Rear high the dome ! for there a ^nation's heart 
Must find a period in the work of art. 
Thus Egypt's science made her kings divine. 
And from the past's dark firmament they shine ; 
But like great Lyra, Washington shaU be 
A star of stars in Nature's history. 



(^ 



fc 



Rear high the dome ! fear not the earthquake's might ; 

'Twill sleep eternal 'neath its lofty height 

Unlike the Rhodian wonder, nigh forgot. 

The elements will guard the sacred spot ; 

As Seth's tall pillars braved the billow's gloom. 

May our fair tablet mock the future's doom ! 

Rear high the dome ! and when the work is done, 
There place his cast to face the morning sun ; 





12J 



31 Y MOTHER 



Where he can yiew our country's eagle soar, 
As marble Memnon woke to life of yore ; 
And when night's curtain falls on airy spars. 
He still can see our banner in the stars. 



MY MOTHEE. 

I remember boyhood's hours. 

And a mother's gentle care ; 
Life seemed but a dream of flowers, 

Glowing, blooming everywhere. 
Then her kindly smile was dearer 

Than all other earthly joy ; 
When she pressed me near and nearer, 

CalHng me her noble boy. 

Sorrow came, too, I remember. 

When the leaves of autumn fell — 
Faces dark as bleak December 

Seemed my mother's fate to tell. 
How I cauoht the solemn meaning:. 

With my tiny folded hands, 
As in supplication, gleaning 

Flowers from the steril sands ! 




When a snow-wi-eath crowned the willow. 
When the winter winds did blow. 

Then she called me to her pillow, 
Saying, " Dear one, I must go ! 



::^ 



.V51 



-« 



ON JOSEPH THOMAS, JR. 123 

I must leave thee ere to-morrow !" — 

Kisses fell on me like rain, 
While my young heart breathed in sorrow— 

" Mother, you'll return again !" 

Quiet in the grave she slumbers, 

Holy angels guard her rest ; 
For their sweet unceasing numbers 
• Lull the spirits of the blest. 
Oft at night a pure contrition 

Crowns the errors of the day ; 
She comes on an angel's mission, 

Smiles and vanishes away. 



ON JOSEPH THOMAS, Jr. 



') 



Dea,r boy, too early doomed to die. 

Thy father's heart oft mourns for thee. 

A bright one now above the sky. 
In dreams thy lovely form I see — 

All beautiful arrayed in joy, 

My dear, departed, angel boy ! 



ON MAEaARET ELIZABETH THOMAS. 

# The brightest rainbow fades in one short hour : 
Earth were an Eden with no withered flower : 
One bloomed for me in purity unstained — 
It faded — Heaven another angel gained. 



%Jh-^ 




124 



TO E L L Y . T 







TO ELLY. 

"When the morn's silver pinions illumine the sky, 

And the bright spheres are gleaming afar, 
I feel that the moment of gladness draws nigh. 

And I watch for our love-trysting star : 
For I know that its rays kiss the dew-spangled flowers, 

As the white wings of angels cleave free ; 
Yet brighter by far are the fast fleeting hours 

I pass, dearest EUy, with thee. 

I care not for riches, I ask but the heart 

Which, I trust, beats respondent to mine ; 
In my eyes thou nast seen thy bright image oft start. 

And my form I've seen mirrored in thine. 
Then life seemed an Eden by sorrow forgot. 

When thy love-light reflected on me ; 
And the desert of time had an oasis spot 

For each hour, dear EUy, with thee. 



TO 



* * 



* * 




Brightly slept fair Eden's flowers 

On the bosom of the spring ; 
Swiftly flew the golden hours 

'Neath the watchful angel's wing. 
Lingered there earth's dark-eyed daughter,* 

Flashed the bright Euphrates' train. 
Pure as that Floridian water. 

Ponce De Leon sought in vain. 



;IW 




r^. 





N 



THE DAUGHTER OF JARED WILCOX. 12o 



Dove-like Adah lives in story, 

Breathes in chronicles of old ; 
Eden lost bright rays of glory 

In her tresses streaming gol(L 
Arab tale of rare enchantment 

Never sought so rich a theme ; 
Yet, in fancy's pure entrancement, 

Such a lovely one I dream. 

I've not seen thee, gentle maiden. 

Fancy thus thy charms would show : 
Thou hast eyes like hers of Aiden, 

Brow like foam the breakers throw ; 
Just the tresses fancy singles. 

Teeth like pearls from Ceylon's mart, 
And a mind that ever mingles 

With a kind and gentle heart. 



ON THE DAUGHTER OF JAEED WILCOX. 

She seemed a flower beautiful and fair. 

And like a bud of peerless beauty grew ; 
A plant that God had given to our care. 

Pure from His garden, wet with heaven's dew. 
We saw it blossom for three joyous years. 

As pure as light that bathes the seraph's wing ; 
Then Heaven claimed it, though with countless tears. 

To bloom and flourish in eternal spring. 






12( 




TO FREDERICK H. WAY. 



TO FREDERICK H. WAY 

Many pleasant years are fled 
Since I knew tliee first, dear Fred ; 
Many golden hours have flown, 
Each of which thy worth has known 
Friends of yours and mine are dead, 
Since I knew thee first, dear Fred. 

There are years of sorrow sped. 
Since I knew thee first, dear Fred ; 
And when shadows o'er me came, 
Then I found thee still the same, 
While thy noble heart I read, 
Pure as Holy Writ, dear Fred. 

Many through life's journey tread. 
With no friend like thee, dear Fred ; 
Kindred will their friendship cease, 
Will forget with gold's increase ; 
Often truthful hearts have bled. 
For the want of friends, dear Fred. 

Half thy worth has not been said — 

It could ne'er be told, dear Fred. 

Until hfe and I shall part, 

I will store thee in my heart ; 

Then, in heaven overhead, 

May we meet once more, dear Fred ! 




\5> 



v^>'V 









CIRCULAR ACROSTIC . E P I T A P H . 127 



CIRGULAR ACROSTIC. 

Every Angel, Now Invited, Visit Lovely, Loyal, Ell ! 

Lovely as the stars above iis, of which poets please to Tell. 

Linked with beauty, grace majestic, every charm of hers In- 
vades ; 

Vashti seems no more a beauty, Byron's Haidee sinks to Hades.* 

I have seen her brow of whiteness, pure as pearls the angels 
Wear ; 

Next her blue eyes quiver brightness, like a sunbeam through 
the Air. 

As the cestus' petals shiver by the flower-girded Nile, 

Vv'akening dreams of Eden's river, or some far off fauy Isle. 

Had I culled the fairest flowers in the fields of fancy Yast, 

I would find thee still the brightest, only cherish thee at Last. 

Then farewell at present, EUy ; broken is the poet's Lyre ; 

Erostratus-Like, Lamenting, Vanished Is Now Art's Empire. 



EPITAPH ON F. H. WAY'S CHILD 

It was a jewel deemed so rich and rare, 
That GrOD himself grew jealous of his care, 
If tears were footsteps to bright heaven's shore, 
We soon would find our angel boy once more ; 
For every tear that we have shed meanwhile, 
Our angel son would pay us with a smile. 




\ -'/^ ' — — ■ — ■ V*.l i ( 

-A* 



■^iri 



^V— 



128 TO E. L. VANDEROEF 




TO MY FRIEND E. L. YANDEROEF 

Where tlie flowers of friendship combine, 

Where the beauties of Eden belong, 
Mj soul bas oft mingled with thine, 

In the pure, cherished dream-land of song ; 
That land where the bright angels listen, 

When the heart's thrilling echoes arise ; 
While the silver stars o'er us still glisten. 

To light each pure thought to the skies. 

Life's spring seems a garden of flowers ; 

Its summer an epoch of joy ; 
And autumn has many bright hours, 

That winter can never destroy. 
May thy bark in its course never sphnter. 

May thy future all happiness be ; 
May Spring, Summer, Autumn and Winter, 

Long yield a rich harvest to thee ! 



EPITAPH ON JOHN J. WAY. 

His heart was kindness, and his friendship true ; 
His virtues many, and his faults were few ; 
The angel Justice, far beyond the skies. 
Has weighed them well in God's fair Paradise ; 
As faults fell in, still virtues turned the scale — 
The angel paused : his virtues did prevail. 








EPITAPH . M Y BROTHER IN HEAVEN. 129 



EPITAPH ON THE WIFE OF MY FEIEND, 

E. VANDEROEF. 

This tablet tells that ■^utq as snow, 
An angel form lies hushed below ; 
Above this monument on high, 
An angel's anthem cleaves the sky . 
"While on my heart it echoes true — 
" Dear husband, I watch over you !" 

May every flower that Gtod can send. 
Bloom o'er thy grave, my dearest friend, 
Until we meet once more above. 
My first, my last, my only love. 
And while thy spirit hovers near, 
I close this tribute with a tear. 



MY BROTHER IN HEAVEN. 

TO JOHN SINCLAIR. 

In life's merry spring-time, that epoch of joy, 

Well I remember a beautiful boy. 

Often thy image in fancy I trace. 

Pure as the smile that once dwelt on thy face ; 

And thy morning star shone in the splendor of noon, 

x\nd thy heart with affection was ever in tune. 

When we knelt hand in hand, at sweet even-tide. 

And lisped our first prayer by our dear mother's side. 
9 





130 



]MY BROTHER IN HEAVEN. 



r^. 




Canst thou remember, though angel thou art, 
That loving brother who dwelt in thy heart ? 
Years have passed by in their circular round, 
Since thou departed, o'er wild ocean bound. 
Kind fortune smiled on the brave and the free ; 
Often a blessing came, brother, from thee, 
Tokens of kindness in purity given — 
Dost thou remember it, brother, in heaven ? 

Many bright years had flown pleasantly o'er, 
When you set sail for Columbia's shore. 
Once we had parted, once only since birth. 
Parted to meet never more upon earth. 
Thinking of home and its dear ones beside, 
On the blue waters, returning, you died ; 
One who had smiled on thy home o'er the sea, 
Told thy sad fate, dearest brother, to me. 

Dimly the lamp of futurity burned. 
Though in my dreams thy bright image returned ; 
She who had cherished thy noble heart free. 
Often speaks kindly, dear brother, of thee. 
She said thy last words were of dear ones at home, 
Regretting thou'dst left them o'er ocean to roam ; 
Then calmly thou diedst ere the morrow's bright dawn- 
To the home of thy childhood the vessel saUed on. 

In beautiful Grreenwood, thou calmly dost rest ; 
Bright are the flowers that bloom on thy breast ; 
Sentinels guarding a treasure in trust. 
Nothing but flowers could spring from thy dust. 
When from earth's bondage thy pure soul was freed. 
Thy brother-angels first planted the seed ; 
Long may they flourish, thy mission to tell ; 
Dear brother in heaven, I bid thee farewell ! 






TO JOSEPH M. FOLSOM. 131 



TO JOSEPH M. FOLSOM. 

He sleeps in death ; no more the tide of years 
Will ebb and flow for him, beloved so well ; 

And every eye has streamed with mournful tears, 
And every heart has bade him fond farewell. 

He sleeps in death ; the beautiful and bright 
Has faded only to our mortal view ; 

Another star arrays the throne of light — 
Another angel cleaves the boundless blue. 

He sleeps in death ; the gentle and the kind, 
Whose heart awoke affection's fervent bound ; 

For love encircled all the master mind, 

That shone, a sun, with planets gathered round. 

He sleeps in death ; the noble and the brave, 
H-as won the crown God's brightest ones enjoy ; 

The lovely girl he risked his life to save, 
Will ne'er forget the noble, generous boy. 

He sleeps in death — the true and pure in heart ! 

The die was cast and all our hopes were won ; 
A leaf was rended from the book of art. 

And science felt that she had lost a son. 

He sleeps in death ; life brought no summer hour, 
'Twas in its early spring-time that he died ; 

No wind of autumn scathed the blooming flower, 
A father's treasure and a mother's pride. 







132 ACROSTIC 



Farewell, dear boy ; we will unite once more 
In God's bright heaven where the angels dwell, 

When all the weary storms of life are o'er, 

There we will part not ; dear one, fare-thee-well ! 



ACROSTIC. 

Emporium of tragic thought, concentrated, yet vast, 
Divinity, with truest skill, thy noble form hath cast ; 
While other stars their glories lend in life's dramatic hall. 
In thee we view the brilliant sun that ruleth over all. 
Now in the Broker's fearful part we see thy truant skill — 
From that we turn, Aylmere appears, the man of daring will. 
Othello, too, in life-like form, seems from the tomb to rise. 
Remembering, while Forrest lives, Othello never dies. 
Right loyally the Avon bard would to thy King Lear bow ; 
Earth lost this jewel from his hand, — thy brightest treasure 

now. 
Still onward be thy path of fame, with every honor won, 
Though each bright star should fade away, we'll gaze upon 

the sun. 





L^ . . :^j 



PREFACE TO EARLY EFFORTS 



When my friends proposed to me to publisli a yolume of my 
Poems, they requested me to give, in the collection, some of my ear- 
liest efforts. It is in accordance with this desire that the following 
Poems are presented to the public I know they are open to criti- 
cism ; but I do not wish to convey a false idea of my powers as a 
Poet at the age of from twelve to fifteen years, and they are there- 
fore given, word for word, as they were originally written — almost 
all of them being in bad measure, and many lines not even rhym- 
ing. The " End of Time" is the first piece I ever published. I 
am aware that grade does not rhyme with plague, nor state with 
quake. I could easily have altered them before incorporating them 
in this volume, but I preferred running the gauntlet of criticism to 
deceiving the public, and I now therefore insert them exactly as 
they originally appeared. 

Thk Attthor. 



133 








THE END OF TIME. 135 



EARLY EFFORTS. 



THE END OF TIME. 

What is that afar off in the vision of space, 

That tongue cannot utter, that mind cannot trace — 

Now shining like heaven in regions of light. 

Now darkening like hell in the blackness of night. 

A comet now courses the wide zodiac ; 

The heavens are shrouded in purple and black, 

The stars fall to earth, and the moon turns to blood ; — 

'Tis the end of old Time, 'tis the power of God. 

See skeleton forms o'er the churchyard now tread ; 
While the sea washes up the bleached bones of the dead 
The hyena crouches within his dark lair. 
For fear of the mammoth that now wakens there. 

Earth's pillars are crashing, the bright sun turns pale ; 
Men sigh in their anguish, but useless their wail ; 
A form now approaches, of heaven's high grade, 
'Tis the angel of Grod with the seventh last plague. 

What sign now approaches of wonder and fears ? 
'Tis the bright Son of Grod in his glory appears ! 
And what sound is that ? 'tis the words of his breath — • 
" Depart ye accursed ! ye are prisoners of death." 





136 



M 



THE LOOKIXG-GLASS OF FATE. 



Who are those afar off now eno-ao-ino; the sigrht ? 
They're the army of Magog, preparing to fight. 
"Who is he that, exulting, now tramples each corse .'' 
'Tis Death, the dread warrior that rides the pale horse. 

And the Jew and the Grentile of rich Grallilee, 

Who crowned him with thorns, as they bent the rude knee, 

Call loud for the hills and the mountains to fall — 

" 0, hide us, and save from the great Judge of all !" . 

The spheres in their orbits now stagger and quake. 
For the earth and the heavens are in their last state ; 
The fires from above o'er the elements pour, 
Time was — Time is past — Time now is no more. 



THE LOOKINQ-aLASS OF FATE 






Ho for Caucasus ! we are there, 
Breathe no sentence of aught like prayer ; 
A holy deed, in unholy cause, 
Breaks the spell of the genii laws; 
And they are strict as the sacred ring, 
That o'er their power doth bondage fling. 
Enter the tomb of the living dead, 
Tread ye light as the spirits tread. 

Sleep ye on by enchantment bound, 
Watchful ones of the magic ground ; 
Dread the fate of thy dark career, 
Should ye speak false from the marble bier. 



■(^K. 



v^\v — 



Ms- 



THE LOOKING-GLASS OF FATE 



137 



Tell us of things we wish to know. 
The rich man's joy, and the poor man's wo. 
Why point ye there to that fearful pass, 
That is underwrit the eternal glass ? 

A sword appears of the truest mould, 
Damascus blade, and a sheath of gold, 
To tell the fate of thousands slain 
For a tyrant's might, for a robber's gain. 
And it points afar to a fearful flood, 
That turns anon to a sea of blood ; 
And every drop in its fearful part. 
Holds a mother's curse or a widow's heart. 

No more from the phantom war we glean — 
Another shade's in the mirror seen. 
Pale famine rules with an iron hand 
O'er the wide domain of a shackled land. 
Yet the proud lord keeps up his princely fare, 
While the mouldy crust is the workman's share ; 
They are held in chains like the martyr's gyves. 
That are taken off with their meao;re lives. 

Now another view makes the number three — 
A church of the Scribe and the Pharisee, 
A church that would crumble down to dust, 
Did it yield to right what it holds in trust. 
But law will guard Mammon's perjured throne ; 
The church has gold, but the poor have none. 
Why not make laws, that, on freedom's sod, 
The poor must kneel to another god. 

Famine and war with church have past, 
Three mighty dies of the demon's cast. 





138 



DAWALAGHERI. 



Look, mortal, now for a goodly sight — 
'Tis the interest of the widow's mite. 
Not all the gold of your earth above 
Could buy a tithe of her holy love ; 
Grod borrowed that dear tribute given, 
And placed it in the bank of heaven. 



DAWALAGHERI.* 

Monarch of mountains, 

Thy throne is on high, 
Where light's living fountains 

Gush pure from the sky : 
Where silence seems sleeping 

The sleep of the soul ; 
TiU the lightning flash leaping, 

Wakes the thunder-trains roll. 

Thy summit lies crowned 

With the arctic king's breath, 
A jewelled robe bound 

O'er thy region of death. 
To catch the last pinion 

The day star hath given, 
When night's dark dominion 

First quivers in heaven. 




* One of the Himmalaya range of mountains — the loftiest on the 
surface of the globe. 



m-- 







$ . 

Y& 



THE soul's journey. 139 



THE SOUL'S JOURNEY. 

Now the soul soars fearless upward, lo ! it stands with Grod 

alone ! 
The crystal walls of light are scaled, it sees him on His throne ; 
The Artist of a universe whose shadows dimly start, 
When he doth write his autograph upon a lofty heart. 

In the councils of eternity, 'tis there its mission lies, 
Where the book of fate reads darkest in the days of Paradise ; 
When Heaven's sceptre trembled o'er the fearftd void it hung. 
And Lucifer, undaunted, to our Grod his gauntlet flung. 

When the rebel hosts were withered by the great Jehovah's 

might. 
As bright stars fall from glory into everlasting night ; 
When the Son of morning's banner, like a dread eclipse, was 

thrown. 
And Grod lost brilliant angels, like jewels from his crown. 

Thus reads the Past's dark archives ; to the Future now we 

turn. 
To see the world hereafter, like a sphere of glory, burn ; 
When they of thought and reason, with untiring wing will soar. 
To win the lofty beacon lit on high for evermore. 

For these uncreated ages that Eternity doth hold, 

Mark Man a being mighty as the angels were of old ; 

For as snow-peaks show their splendor the nearest to the 

skies. 
Men will mirror God's own image, the nearer Him they rise. 








140 THE FALLEN ONE's DREAM. 

f 

Like a blazing sphere that flingeth its shadow over space, 
The giant thought will wander, but find no resting-place ; 
Till, fixed in that fair centre Grod boundeth with His love — 
And he who lost an Eden, wins a brighter home above. 



THE FALLEN ONE'S DREAM. 

She reclined on an ottoman rich and most rare, 
And a thought of her happy days came to her there ; 
A thought like a dream that forever had fled — 
Like the flower of hope, when the blossom is dead. 

Pale, pale is the cheek that once was so fair, 

For the bright blush had vanished that Nature spread there ; 

Afi"ection had blasted the spring-time of youth. 

And he had proved false whom she fancied aU truth. 

The vision reflected her own cottage home ; 
She sought it once more, never from it to roam ; 
The flowers of gladness grew there, side by side, 
And she culled them again in her innocent pride. 

The smile of the father beamed brightly once more. 
And bhghted hopes vanished like dreams that are o'er ; 
The fond mother blessed her, the children danced round — 
The sister loved dearly, the lost one, was found. 

And then came the spoiler, far dearer than life : 

He loved her again, and he made her his wife ; 

And she clung to him ; then he was free from dark guile, 

Her GrOD and protector — she lived in his smile. 







LOVE, 



141 



And years passed apace in that bright fairy dream, 
And love's blossoms floated on life's sunny stream ; 
A smile often dwelt on the sleej)er's fair brow. 
For the angel of joy whispers happiness now. 

He oft speaks of love, as he once used to speak, 
Ere the bosom was wrung, or the heart-strings did break ; 
But the bright vision vanished, the maiden awoke ; 
And the silver chord loosened, the golden bowl broke. 

The fallen one smiled, as she gazed round the room : 
'Twas massive and costly, unlike her dear home ; 
She would dream once again ; she reclined her head ; 
They call'd her — the fallen one slept with the dead ! 



L OY E 



'Tis the spell of the heart, an enigma to prove : 
We love all that's lovely, because we must love. 
We love a bright smile from the girl that proves true. 
We love a fair brow, and a dark eye of blue ; 
Our soul is the treasure Grod lent from above. 
And its mission on earth should be only to love. 






142 



T A 31 E R L A N E 




TAMERLxiNE 



The field was lost ; 

The Tartar host 
From proud Bajazet fled ; 

For bloody fray 

Proclaimed, that day, 
Then- bravest numbers dead. 

And Tamerlane 

Had lost again 
That long-contested field ; 

Each battle fought, 

Dishonor brouojht — 
But still he would not yield. 

And to a cave, 

His life to save, 
The Tartar chieftain hied ; 

His brave heart bends, 

For his tried friends 
Upon the field had died, 

No loyal clans 

To hear his plans 
For brighter days in store : 

Alone, cast down 

By Fortune's frown, 
Resolved to fight no more. 

He shed no tears, 

Though many fears 
Hung o'er him, like a pall ; 

While thus perplexed. 

And sorely vexed, 
A spider climbed the wall. 











WOMAN. 

Full seven times 
The insect climbs — 

Each time 'tis sure to fail : 
To him portrayed, 
The eighth essayed — 

The spider wins the goal. 

The spell was broke : 
The Tartar woke, 

To try again, resolved; 
Like morning's beam, 
The gloomy dream 

The insect had dissolved. 
May all, cast down 
By Fortune's frown. 

Stand firm, and try again ; 
And win in fame, 
As great a name, 

As mighty Tamerlane ! 



WOMAN. 

nnun; 
Actors in the play of life 
Seem a sister, mother, wife. 
They can play the kindest parts 
Round the scenery of hearts ; 
Yielding pleasure ne'er forgot. 
In the palace or the cot. 




143 





THE MAGDALEN 




All can tell a mother's care ; 
With a sister none compare ; 
And a wife seems dearer still, 
When the cups of gladness fill ; 
Till the dream of life is told, 
Like a fairy-tale of old. 

May we, in a brighter sphere. 
Meet a wife and sister dear ! 
When the dream of life is past, 
May we meet on high, at last ; 
And, in realms of joy above. 
May we find a mother's love ! 



THE MAGDALEN. 



An erring one lay dying, 'twas of a broken heart ; 
Mo friend of youth beside her, to watch the spnit part. 
Yet one there was of like degree, bent o'er with pitying ken. 
And promised faithful message to the dying Magdalen. 
" May He forgive a truant one, who often doth forgive. 
And bear me to a better home, when I have ceased to live : 
And for the many sorrows that have fallen on my head. 
Tell my friends to try and love me, to love me when I'm dead ! 

" Take this ring unto my father, it was bought with virtue's 

gold; 
His gift to me when hearts beat warm, that long have beaten 

cold. 




^: 



(^. 




THE MAGDALEN 



145 



Tell him, though bound in every vice, abandon'd from his will, 
I always, in my heart of hearts, have loved my father still. 
May he forgive my trespasses the fault by which I fell ! 
I loved him — but another one I loved too wildly well. 
May he, at sad remembrance, a tear of pity shed! 
Tell him to try and love me, to love me when I'm dead ! 

" Take to my dearest mother my miniature in youth, 
Ere vice had stamped its seal upon a soul of joy and truth ; 
Tell her the rose had fled my cheek, the lily lingered there ; 
Yet for earth's parting token, I craved a mother's prayer. 
Oh ! she must know a woman's heart ; must know the fearful 

cost, 
That shows us that the fondest ones must always suffer most ; 
And though for my sad infamy her heart hath often bled, 
I know she always loved me, and will love me when I'm dead. 

" TeU my brother to think kindly upon his sister's shame — 
That often in my wildest thoughts, I breathed my brother's 

name ; 
And then the angel Virtue seemed ever at my side ; 
Oh ! would one friendly word were cast to tear me from the 

tide! 
I dreamed last night of life's spring-time — I'll dream no more 

on earth ; 
I saw again that pleasant home, the cottage of my birth ; 
A brother's hand seemed clasped in mine — at morn the vision 

fled; 
But something murmured, ^Sister dear, I'U love thee when 

thou'rt dead ! ' " 

There's silence in the room of death, the fearful dream is o'er ; 

God's brightest angel well may claim a spirit at the door. 
10 






146 



THE BATTLE OF GIBEON 



Proud, hauglity lady, join the train ; the mourners are hut few ; 
Kemember Jesus said the stone should first he cast hy you. 
Her only fault she loved too weU, forgiving and forgiven ; 
The spirit of the fallen one hath winged its way to heaven, 
And let thine eyes be tearful, and solemn be thy tread, 
For ye loved her not while living — try to love her now she's 
dead! 




THE BATTLE OF GIBEON. 

Morning, fair morning, is beaming afar ; 
The bright sun is gleaming, a herald of war ; 
And his rays leap again in light's banner unfurled, 
Like a vesture of gold on the brow of the world. 

And what sound is that coming forth on the gale .'' 
'Tis the van of the foe, in their glittering mail ; 
But then' footsteps are hushed, and muffled their spears. 
And it sleeps on the wind, like the booming of spheres. 

Why trembles the charger ? the rider is firm — 
He dreams not, he thinks not, the battle's sad term ; 
But the angel of death to the steed has foretold, 
And he snorteth in fear o'er his bridle of gold. 

And the God of Ashtaroth no power has there, 
For the lion of Judah Im-ks in his dark lair, 
TiU he leaps on his prey, like a whirlwind of blood, 
And Baal's slaves are confounded by Israel's God. 






THE BEGINNING. 147 



r^> 



Wty lingers the moon over Agalon's plain ? 

Has nature created new order again ? 

And the bright sun should set — but he sleeps o'er the van, 

For God has commanded in likeness of man. 

The victory's won, and the cohorts have fled ; 
But the whirlwind pursues them, they sleep with the dead ; 
Their pillows the steeds that foresaw their dark doom — 
Their shroud is the purple, Beth-Horon their tomb. 

'Tis morning ; the sun shines on Gribeon's towers, 
But the day has passed by of unnatural hours ; 
And the children of Judah lay by spear and sword, 
To strike the loud timbrel in praise of the Lord. 



THE BEaiNNINO. 

A blackened sphere, 

From chaos' dark bier, 
Rolled forth in the pall of death ; 

And bared its breast 

To eternity's crest, 
As cold as the ice king's breath. 

It leaped again 

From the boundless plain. 
And clove the murky shroud ; 

A mock of light, 

From the tomb of night. 

In the sheen of a sable cloud. 
10* 






148 



THE BEGINNING. 




It swung once more, 

In the universe core, 
A cycle of years unknown ; 

The pine-tree hale 

Breathed the icy gale, 
A king on his virgin throne. 

A ray, flashed near, 

From a pale cold sphere. 
To a flower's bud gave birth ; 

But the chilHng blast 

Slew the gem it passed. 
And it slept on its mother earth. 

Years passed again 

In the mighty vein, 
And ages fearful slept ; 

But the day-star's sheen 

Showed forests green. 
Where the Mammoth dominion kept ; 

And the summer breeze 

Of the torrid seas 
Grave hope to gladsome flowers ; 

But winter's gloom 

Grave them early doom. 
For short were the summer hours. 

But the chrysalis broke, 

And the morn awoke 
On a sphere of life and light ; 

And it mounted again 

The eternal plain, 
As free as an angel's flight. 

In the verdant bliss 

Of the day-star's kiss, 
Its banner of light unfurled ; 



®j. 




Q 




^ — — ' ' fH 




poet's star. 149 



And each silver star, 
On its throne afar, 
Saw the blush of a sister world. 




POET'S STAR. 

Evening donn'd her mantle lightly, 

Like a maiden blushing slightly, 
For each planet, sun, and system, lent their golden kisses to her ; 

Though the westward's deep carnation 

Left the kiss of day's creation, 
The nightly kiss and token of the most successful wooer. 

And each sphere, its spangles lending, 

Seemed like rays of love descending, 
Or like links that bound each mortal to his watchful guardian 
angel ; 

Yet one fair star in heaven. 

Farther than the Pleiads seven. 
Gave a lonely ray and broken, to a poet's dark evangel. 

In his heart of hearts communing. 

Every canto rhyming, tuning, 
Till each sentence read as sweetly as the tone of vesper bell ; 

And thoughts came pure and holy. 

To one so meek and lowly, 
As those first lisped in Eden ere the truant kingdom fell. 

JSTow his fancy, wildly dreaming 
Of things unseemly seeming, 
Loosened the galling fetters that so long had held him still ; 




_;s 




150 ADELAIDE. 

With the lofty ones aspii'ing, 
Fame, honor, wealth acquiring. 
He had solved the rugged future, and formed it to his "will. 

Lo ! tis morn; the vision's ended, 

"With aU its pageants splendid : 
Reality has driven such mshed-for things afar ; 

And the poet, just awaking, 

Sees the golden day is breaking — 
But he sees the last faint sparkle of his lonely little star. 




ADELAIDE. 

In the purest charms arrayed, 
Shineth peerless Adelaide ; 
Lovely as the stars above, 
Grleaming from the throne of love, 
Read it in her eye of blue, 
Matchless as the ether's hue. 

Thine the heart that has unmade 
Many wooers, Adelaide ; 
In thy subtle chains they keep. 
Like the waters hushed in sleep, 
Circe-like, with tempting art — 
None can chain thy fickle heart. 

Soon they all will grow afraid 
Thou'rt coquettish, Adelaide. 




-\^ 




FIRE. 




151 



Lovers sometimes may be shy, 
Never pass good offers by ; 
Well thou knowest 'tis heaven's will, 
" Every Jack must have his Jill." 



FIKE. 



When Deity moulded the waves of the deep,' 

And earth felt the darkness expire, 
Then air first awoke from eternity's sleep. 

And kindled the element fire. 
It lay hushed in the heart of the Ethiop sun, 

That loomed in our system of old ; 
And time saw an heir-loom of glory was won, 

When it rocked in its cradle of gold. 

'Twas a god to the heathen in ages unknown, 

When the glory of earth rose before ; 
It gilded each altar of Persia's proud throne. 

From Ormus to Medea's shore ; 
But Arabia's prophet with Koran and sword. 

Hurled down the proud beacon of light, 
And the Turk and the Tartar with numberless horde, 

Unfurled the dark banner of night. 




It rolls in the veins of the earthquake below. 
And it beats in the thunder-train's heart ; 

It sleepeth beneath Hecla's garment of snow, 
And from Etna its red pinions start. 





— (5 




152 VENICE. 



'Tis the charter that Deity gave unto man, 

Sublime, like its author above ; 
And Science must pause, for it never can scan 

This element given in love. 



(^. 



YENICE. 

Lovely in story, 

Bride of the deep, 
Thy former glory 

Ever must sleep ; 
Past is thy power — 

Future all dark — 
When shall Earth's dower 

Turn to St. Mark .? 

Wise were thy sages, 

And sadly they fell ; 
History's pages 

Their doom to us tell ; 
Matchless in splendor. 

Unrivalled in art ; 
Christian defender. 

All hollow at heart. 

Cruel in peace. 

And rapacious in war ; 
Thy noble increase 

Nations feared from afar ; 




^= 



But the niglit of contrition 
Hung dark over thee, 

When pale superstition 
Left the bride of the sea. 

Tny name fills the measure 

Of legend and rhyme ; 
A city, whose treasure 

Was purchased with crime ; 
A hy-word whose token 

The world must despise, 
For the hearts thou hast broken 

'Neath thy Bridge of Sighs. 



ACROSTIC. 

Let me carol a song to thy Parian brow, 

Yet eclipsed by the Tyrian dye ; 
Dividing, divided, the spell seemeth now 

In the magical light of thine eye. 
Ah ! it leaps again from its virgin throne, 

Conceiving a form as true, 
As the seraphs' are of a world unknown 

Roaming in the eternal blue. 
Riches and love shall be ever thine, 

Or the joys of a youthful heart ; 
Like a heavenly gift at a mortal's shrine, 

Loved, loving, till death shall part. 




ACROSTIC. 153 



^ 




154 



FAUST. 




FAUST 




Odenwald was goblin haunted, 

Ghost and ghoul together came ; 
Witch and wizard vespers chaunted 

To their demon master's name. 
Stood they by an altar Runic, 

That the warrior Time defied. 
When Faust knelt in crimson tunic, 

And his Saviour, Christ, denied. 

Howled the ghost of doomed patrician- 

RoUed the suro-ino- lava higher : 
Scorched the soul of sage magician 

In the livinsr core of fire. 
'Twas the gala of Grhehanna — 
- For, since Satan's army fell. 
Never pealed such loud hosanna. 
Shaking all the walls of hell. 

He possessed the demon's charter — 

Earth was but a meagre dower, 
When the God-abandoned martyr 

Wielded his unlawful power ; 
Shouted all the hosts of devils, 

In his unredeeming fall : 
Echoed hell with awful revels, 

Like one mighty carnival. 

Foredoomed Turk and Pag-an hero 
Blistered in the sulphur tide ; 

Purple-robed, the corpse of Nero 
Suffered by his bondsman's side ; 







FAUST 155 

And the form of Herod, bleeding, 

Trembled on the burning coals ; 
While on Judas' heart were feeding 

Famished goblins, fiends and ghouls ! 

Chased by each appalling spectre — 

Flapped by dusky phantom wings — 
Shades that thought could ne'er conjecture, 

So unlike earth's real things ; 
Seething souls, in boiling lava. 

Bubbling in a sea of pain — 
As the Upas tree of Java 

Smites the pilgrims of the plain. 

Souls from wehr-wolf corses riven. 

Won by demon art and guile ; 
Egypt's kings who died unshriven 

By the black and stagnant NUe ; 
Corsairs from blood-stained Algeria, 

Trembling, joined the awful throng ; 
Cannibal, and outcast Pariah, 

To the demon's host belong. 

Thus the heart of hell was shaken, 

When the demon purchased Faust ; 
And the fearful Grod-forsaken, 

Was to heaven ever lost ! 
German legends, strange and awful, 

Breathe this tale of wonder rife, 
How he, with his art unlawful ; 

Purchased many years of life ! 





156 MY SISTER 




MY SISTER. 

I love thee, fond heart, more than words can unfold ; 
Thy vu-tue's unblemished as the alchemist's gold ; 
Not Golconda's treasure, nor Potosi's rich mine, 
Can buy, dearest sister, such sweet love as thine. 

Thy star is triumphant ; thy beauty shines bright ; 
Thy heart with aiSection, doth ever beat light. 
I am never so happy as when by thy side ; 
Sweet sister, I love thee — thy love is my pride. 



THE END. 





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